


A Deviation From the Course

by Interwoven_ramblings



Series: The Clangor of Small Changes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Kinda, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Slow familial burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interwoven_ramblings/pseuds/Interwoven_ramblings
Summary: Harry does have some manners - despite the Dursleys - and therefore thanks Professor Snape for saving his life in 1st Year after Harry learns it was Quirrell trying to kill him all along.An off-hand comment about Harry living with his Aunt Petunia catches Severus' attention and when Severus investigates, he discovers the snotty little prat he's been given updates on throughout the years doesn't exist.Severus promptly removes Potter from such a horrible environment but when he takes Potter to Family Services, things don't go as planned. Severus knows how to roll with the punches, however, and this time, he's determined that he won't let Lilly down.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: The Clangor of Small Changes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122569
Comments: 234
Kudos: 512





	1. A Belated Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> Whew boy, this is my first fic, guys. All credit to JKR for creating such a fantastic playground. 
> 
> Fair warning: This fic starts at the very end of Harry's 1st year and by the end of 2nd year, we'll pretty much leave canon behind. It's inevitable with a responsible adult getting involved. If you're looking for another play-by-play of the books, this ain't it.
> 
> Not beta'd, not Brit-picked. This fic is for practice, so if you've got constructive comments, please do.

Harry stood in front of Snape’s office, searching for the courage to knock. With a deep breath, Harry knocked and then quickly backed two steps away from the door, waiting for a response with bated breath.

There was no response.

Harry knocked again, louder and firmer. His heart beat in his throat, nervous and embarrassed. He wanted to get this over with. But again, there was only silence.

“ _He’s not in there, firstie. Might as well head back_.”

Harry jumped, since he’d thought he’d been alone in the corridor. He looked around for someone else but didn’t realize where the voice had come from before an amused snort drew his eye to the portrait across from Snape’s office. A grass snake lay sunning itself and watched him from within its frame.

He stepped up to the portrait and gave an unsure smile.

“ _Do you know where Snape is? I wanted to see him before school lets out_ ,” Harry said.

The snake in the portrait reared back as if startled. Harry didn’t know why, since it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Then again, this was Snape. No one _wanted_ to see him. Not even Slytherins.

The serpent blinked twice before a sly expression crossed its face.

“ _And what business do you have with the Head of Slytherin?_ ” the serpent asked. Harry looked down at his feet, emotions ricocheting around in his head.

“ _It – it’s about a detention._ ” A lie, but who knew what the snake would tell the Slytherins.

The snake remained silent a moment before it bobbed its head, buying what Harry had said.

“ _I know where he’ll be. Follow me._ ”

Harry followed the snake as it slithered through the portraits, leading him further into Slytherin territory than he’d ever wanted to venture. The snake kept up a running commentary on the passing scenery and bits of gossip about the other portraits they passed – sometimes to their faces, though none of the portraits did more than roll their eyes. Perhaps they’d grown used to the snake’s antics. The snake was surprisingly amusing, and Harry would have been snorting if he didn’t feel so sick about being down here and what he’d set out to do.

As they went, Harry kept an eye out for portraits large enough to hide the entrance to the Slytherin common room, not wanting to have a run in with Malfoy. His day would be bad enough.

Though if Harry and Malfoy met and got in a fight, it’d achieve the same end.

No gits in green materialized, and before long Harry’s guide stopped across from the portrait of a napping adder.

“ _Elspeth, is the Head in_?” asked Harry's guide.

The adder hissed at the disturbance.

“ _Yes, so go away_ ,” the adder, Elspeth, said.

The grass snake gave a hissy chuckle.

“ _But Elspeth, I brought a Speaker to talk to him_.”

The adder raised her head and examined Harry as he looked between the two.

“Speaker?” Harry asked. It wasn’t a title he was familiar with.

The adder’s eyes widened and she raised herself up further, giving her full attention to the conversation since Harry and the grass snake had arrived.

“ _It’s not often we have someone to talk to_ ,” the grass snake explained.

Harry got the inexplicable impression that the snake had shrugged, despite a lack of shoulders. Harry also wondered what kind of massive jerks Slytherins were that no one talked with the snakes.

“ _You’re wearing red? Are you a Gryffindor?_ ” Elspeth asked, sounding slightly horrified. The adder turned to the grass snake. “ _Typhos, this Speaker’s a Gryffindor?_ ”

Harry huffed and crossed his arms, cutting in before Typhos could speak up. _“Yes. Does it matter?_ ”

Elspeth turned back to Harry and Harry raised his chin. There was nothing wrong with Gryffindor. It was loads better than Slytherin.

“ _No, that doesn’t matter to me. It’s you humans that insist on that silly rivalry. But I’m afraid I can’t let you in without the password._ ” She tilted her head to the side. “ _Do you know it?_ ”

Harry scowled. “ _No, I don’t. Can you just go and tell Snape that I’m here and want to talk?_ ”

The professor wouldn’t be pleased to see Harry, but he’d at least come out for the pleasure of squeezing in one last dressing down before everyone went home for the summer.

The adder shook her head.

“ _There’s no portraits in his quarters. He took them all out when he moved in. And besides, he isn’t a Speaker,_ ” she said.

“ _Oh,_ ” Harry said, despite not being sure what the last part meant.

He kicked at the stone beneath his feet. He’d come to see Snape despite not looking forward to it. But Harry needed to see him before he had to leave Hogwarts. Perhaps it was enough that he’d tried? Harry couldn’t just break in.

Guilt squirmed in his gut. No, he couldn’t just leave.

Harry sighed.

“ _Could I knock? Would he hear that?_ ” Harry asked.

The adder tilted her head the other way. “ _No one’s tried, so I don’t know if it would work, but I guess you could._ ”

Harry raised his fist.

“ _Just be sure to hit the frame, not my canvas,_ ” Elspeth added quickly.

Harry nodded and knocked against the frame, being sure to avoid damaging the canvas in any way.

Nothing happened, so Harry knocked a little harder. Just as he stopped knocking, the portrait swung away from the wall. Harry stumbled back to avoid being hit, tripping and falling to the ground in an awkward sprawl. In the doorway, Snape glowered down at Harry.

“Potter,” Snape spat. “You’ve finished soaking up your adoring fans’ adulations in the hospital wing, stolen the House Cup from the rightful winners’ in a frankly astounding display of nepotism, and now decided to darken my doorstep? Has your ego not been sufficiently stroked in your pathetic pre-pubescent mind?”

Harry scowled at the floor, feeling the familiar rush of anger and humiliation that came from being around the Potions professor. For the thousandth time, Harry wondered what he’d ever done to make Snape hate him.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Harry said.

Snape gave a contemptuous snort.

“What, then? Come for a detention? I told the Headmaster that you and your little miscreant friends ought be in detention for all of next year after your little display of foolhardiness with the Stone,” Harry held his breath, perverse hope surging in him, “but clearly he didn’t take my advice into consideration, and now there’s nothing to be done about it.”

Harry’s stomach clenched. He didn’t want to hear that. He should have tried breaking in. Snape definitely would’ve given Harry a punishment then.

“Thank you.” It came out as a snarl, but the words had been said.

There was a glacial silence.

“Excuse me?”

Harry swallowed. Harry hadn’t meant to say that, and now he wasn’t sure how to salvage the situation. People didn’t usually get in trouble for apologizing.

“Thank you,” he said again. The words sounded meek now, and Harry hated them.

Harry was still staring at the floor, and Snape hadn’t spoken. Harry could only see Snape’s feet, black boots sticking out from beneath black robes. Harry couldn’t bring himself to glance up. His hands fisted against the ground, still propping him up from where he’d fallen to the floor.

“At the quidditch match, when my broom acted up. We’d thought you were the one hexing the broom, but Qu- Quirrell –” even speaking the name, Harry had to wash down a wave of nausea “– he said you’d been trying to save me. I didn’t know until a few days ago, and I’ve been in the hospital wing since, otherwise I’d have been here sooner. But you saved me, so... thank you.”

Here, Harry peeked up at Snape. His professor wore an expressionless mask, and he stared at Harry intently. Harry squirmed before picking himself up off the floor, not meeting Snape’s eyes. His mind raced, but Harry couldn’t think of a way to get himself in trouble now.

“Erm... sorry. About think you’d been trying to kill me. And thinking you were the one trying to get past Fluffy,” Harry said.

“Fluffy?”

“Err, Hagrid’s cerberus. He named it Fluffy,” Harry said.

Snape gave an aggravated, long-suffering sigh, which Harry kind of had to agree with. And that was without telling the Potions Master about Norbert.

Snape’s hand dropped and he looked down his long nose at Harry.

“You will not go galivanting off on any more adventures, understood? Simple instructions like that are able to penetrate your skull, no matter how remarkably thick it is, correct?” Snape asked.

A thought dropped into Harry’s head. He nodded.

“Yes, sir. I just wanted to thank you. I didn’t think you’d be the one to save me, what with you being an angry, prejudiced berk and all,” Harry said.

In an instant, Snape’s face had gone from sneering to thunderous, and he took a step closer to Harry so that he towered over the boy. Harry’s insides twisted into knots, preparing for a blow, even as he held his breath in anticipation.

“Get out of my sight,” Snape hissed.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Get out,” Snape repeated in the same tones. “Get on the train and don’t bother me again. If it weren’t the summer, boy, you’d be scrubbing cauldrons until your hands fell off. But you’re too cowardly to time this when you can get punished. So much for the exalted Gryffindors. Now get out of my sight.”

Snape turned and stalked towards his portrait. He had a foot through the door’s entry when Harry’s control snapped.

“No!” Harry shouted, leaping to his feet. Snape turned around, fury on his face. “You were supposed to punish me!”

Snape froze, caught between anger and confusion.

“You were supposed to, to, give me detention, assign extra homework, something!” Harry yelled, tugging at the roots of his hair.

“And why would you be aiming for this?” Snape asked, snarling.

“I killed someone!” Harry yelled.

Tears ran down his cheek, leaving warm trails that burned into his skin – but not as much as Quirrell’s, never as much as Quirrell’s, Quirrell’s skin burning, turning gray-cracking-brittle-dying-dead. Harry started crying, angry sobs that he couldn’t keep down.

Crying, in front of Snape. Great. As if this couldn’t get any better.

“I killed Professor Quirrell, and I wasn’t even punished! Dumbledore gave me points, but someone’s dead, and it’s my fault. No one cares! Dumbledore’s _proud_ of me! Why? Why is no one horrified, or angry?”

Harry had to stop ranting as he ran out of breath. He tried to breathe but couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His vision blurred from the tears and he gasped for breath. Too much, it was all too much and the guilt clawed at Harry’s heart and sank its fangs in and it was dragging him down, too-much-no-breath-dying-murderer –

A weight settled on his back and a voice murmured in his ear “breathe, Potter, you need to breathe – if someone sees this, I’ll strangle you”. Harry realized that he was sitting in a chair but couldn’t remember quite how that had happened.

The voice came again. “Potter, you need to take slow breaths. Inhale on my count.”

Harry listened to the voice, and suddenly could breathe again, oxygen rushing back in. With it, he recognized that the voice belonged to Professor Snape, calmer than Harry’d ever heard him before. Harry also realized that he was trembling, and Snape had a hand on his shoulder to calm or comfort Harry.

At this point, given how Snape was behaving, Harry thought it likely he’d had a seizure and was hallucinating. A glance at Snape's face showed Snape had an annoyed expression. Maybe not a seizure, then. Which actually made the whole thing unbelievable.

“Wait here, and do keep from dying,” Snape murmured.

Harry kept his head down, not acknowledging what Snape said. He heard Snape walking away and a cabinet opening, followed by the tinkling of glass moving around. Snape’s returned and pressed a glass into Harry’s hand.

“Drink.”

Harry started raising the glass, but his hand trembled badly enough that Snape reached out and covered Harry’s hand with his own. Snape kept the glass steady as Harry swallowed a few mouthfuls of a potion that tasted of peppermint.

Snape tisked, muttering about the stupidity of blindly accepting unknown potions.

Harry’s breathing slowed further as a wave of calmness washed over him. He could still feel his earlier hysteria gently lapping at the corners of his mind, but now it was as though there was a moat the hysteria couldn’t cross, Harry’s emotions guarded like a castle. Harry’s eyes flitted up and met Snape’s as the professor studied him.

Snape must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he gave a sharp nod and straightened, summoning a chair. Harry looked around, taking in his surroundings in a calm haze. He didn’t recognize the place, but it appeared to be a sitting room.

“Why did you come here?” Snape’s voice broke through Harry’s inspection, and Harry turned his focus from the room to his professor.

Harry licked his lips, getting another small hint of peppermint on his tongue.

“I came here to thank you for –”

“No lies, Potter,” Snape said firmly, just a hint of the nastiness that Harry would have suspected. It would have startled Harry, if the calm haze hadn’t still been firmly in place.

“I killed Professor Quirrell, and no one cares. I should be in jail. But Dumbledore rewarded me, and Professor McGonagall probably is more upset about us breaking curfew than Professor Quirrell dying. I thought you’d be willing to punish me,” Harry said.

Snape stared at him a moment. “You came to me as your preferred method of self-punishment.”

Harry scrunched up his face, piecing the words together. “Yes?”

Snape raised his eyes to ceiling as though silently asking for strength, and Harry studied his own hands, flexing them, the hazy calm messing with his thoughts. He’d killed someone with those hands. There hadn’t been blood involved, nothing to stain the hands red, so would Harry’s hands be stained gray to match what had happened to Quirrell?

“Why doesn’t anyone care? I feel... dirty, and I don’t understand why no one else is upset. Isn’t this my fault? Shouldn’t I at least get a, a detention?”

Snape muttered something under his breath before kneeling in front of Harry.

“Potter.”

Harry was still studying his hands, but he stopped when Snape put a hand under his chin and raised Harry’s head until they were looking eye to eye.

“I disagree with many aspects of how Headmaster Dumbledore’s handled this, and yes, you should value human life and never attempt to harm another, whether in earnest or for a bit of fun,” here, a sneer edged into Snape’s voice that was there and gone again, “but like him, I do not hold you responsible for Quirrell’s death.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut Harry off with his most withering glare. Harry closed his mouth in a rare moment of self-preservation.

“The reason behind that, and what the Headmaster should have explained but apparently didn’t, is that Quirrell was already dead.”

Harry’s eyes widened and Snape shook his head.

“Not literally. He wasn't an inferius. Quirrell didn’t realize, or else he’d never have agreed to hosting the Dark Lord, but by agreeing to take in the Dark Lord, Quirrell let in a parasite. The Dark Lord is currently a wraith, and as such feeds off the life force of others. He’d been feeding off Quirrell for the entire school year, and Quirrell had grown progressively weaker. It wouldn’t be something that any of you students would notice, but I and a few other professors did. Even if you and Quirrell hadn’t fought for the Philosopher’s Stone, Quirrell would have died the moment Voldemort left his body. He’d have died even if Voldemort stayed in his body, for that matter.”

Harry looked back down at his hands.

“But... but he _crumbled_ when I touched him,” Harry whispered. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I keep seeing it over and over and over again. Dumbledore said it was because my mum loved me, but seeing that, it was awful. How could something like that happen because of love?”

“What precisely did the Headmaster tell you?”

“He said that the reason Professor Quirrell – did that – was because my mum died for me, and that her love... it got woven into me, as protection. And because Vol –” Snape made a sound in the back of his throat and Harry paused. “Err, because You-Know-Who was in Quirrell, my mum’s protection reacted to Professor Quirrell too.”

Another emotion Harry didn’t recognize darted along Snape’s face before passing away. Snape got off his knees and reclaimed his seat, no longer looking directly at Harry.

“Yes, that sounds right. Old magic, not practiced in... ages. A good, if simplistic, explanation of what happened.”

A heavy pause lingered between them.

“How can love look like that?” Harry asked quietly.

Snape didn’t answer right away. Harry felt bad for asking the question after a moment, though he didn’t know why, and he looked away from Snape. He studied his own hands, contemplating what Snape had said about what had caused Quirrell’s death. Eventually, however, Snape found words for Harry’s question.

“Death is a difficult thing, especially when in such a violent form. Lil – your mother’s death was a terrible occurrence, but she died to protect you. When her sacrifice protected you from the Dark Lord, the protection was as equally terrible to him as what he did to her – as terrible as what would have happened to you, had the protection not been in place. Life is not always pretty, but do not doubt that it was your mother’s love protecting you,” Snape said. “It was not something you should have seen down in that chamber, but what happened was not your fault, Harry.”

It was the first time that Snape had ever called Harry by his first name or spoken to Harry without vitriol. Without the calm haze, it would have sent Harry into another fit of hysteria.

“Do you understand, Potter?”

Harry nodded, numb.

“Well then, you’d best leave if you don’t want to miss the train home,” Snape said. Snape went and opened a door, revealing the corridor that Harry had been in when he’d confronted Snape.

Harry wanted nothing more than to miss the train, but knew he’d be pushing his luck with Snape, especially after what he’d said to the man when he was trying to be punished. Harry got up and went over to the doorway. He paused and looked up at Snape. The professor raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you, sir, for listening, and for saving my life at the quidditch match. I did mean it, about that.” Snape peered down at Harry, who gulped. “I should apologize, too, for what I said to you. And for thinking you were the one trying to kill me all year.”

A muscle twitched by Snape’s mouth. Harry didn’t know if it was the start of a smile or a frown. The professor nodded his head, and Harry took that as his signal to leave. He climbed out and the grass snake who had led him to Snape’s quarters greeted him.

“ _You’re not dead!_ ” the grass snake said cheerfully.

“ _No, I’m not._ ” Despite himself, Harry could feel his mouth quirk up in a smile.

“ _Elspeth and I thought you were dying, or that the Head was going to murder you,_ ” the grass snake said cheerfully. “ _We’re glad you’re not, though. It’s been a long time since we had a human to talk to. It’d be a shame to lose our entertainment so soon._ ”

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _Is that all I’m good for?_ ”

“Potter.”

Harry jumped, startled. He turned towards Snape. The man looked from Harry to the portrait. His brow had furrowed, looking unsettled.

“How long have you known you’re a Parselmouth?” Snape asked.

“A what?” Harry asked.

An irritated expression crossed Snape’s face.

“You can speak with snakes,” Snape said.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said. “I talked with a boa constrictor at the zoo and freed it with my magic last year, before I knew about magic. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were furious.”

Snape blinked before his brow furrowed even deeper. “Does anyone else know about this?”

Harry shook his head.

“Then do not tell anyone. Being a Parselmouth is generally considered a Dark ability, and not a connotation you will wish to be associated with. The last known Parselmouth was the Dark Lord. People would likely fear you if they knew,” Snape said. “Understood?”

Harry nodded, wondering at his rotten luck.

Snape nodded sharply. “Good. Then you have a train to catch.”

“Yessir,” Harry said.

“I will see you next schoolyear,” Snape said, before the portrait swung shut.

Harry stood in the corridor, blinking in surprise. He and Snape had just managed a civil conversation. That was crazier than fighting Voldemort.

Harry stared at the portrait Snape had disappeared behind, replaying his conversation with Snape about Quirrell. Somehow, Snape had been more comforting than everyone else since Harry had woken up in the hospital wing.

With a word of goodbye to the snakes, Harry set off to find Ron and Hermione and catch the train back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning: I'm starting out from canon-Snape. I love a paternal Snape, but frankly, we've got a long ways to go and Harry and Snape have some issues to work out. Canon-Snape really never got past being a teenaged prat, bullying students throughout the series for events that took place before they were born. 
> 
> He'll get there, but give it time. He's got a lot of growing to do. Severitus where both parties are thrilled about having a familial bond is end-game. 
> 
> (Also, since it's my first time posting ever, if you comment or something and don't hear back from me anytime soon, give it time. It's not that I'm not appreciative, I'm just on a learning curve.)


	2. Privet Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your amazing response! I'm so touched how you guys have responded to this fic, and I can't wait to see your reactions as we get further into the plot and the changes start adding up!

Despite what he had told Potter, Severus was determined that they’d see each other before the next schoolyear.

Potter had said he’d been with his Aunt Petunia at the zoo. Bitter, magic hating Tuney? The name had given Severus pause. She’d raised the boy? Surely Dumbledore wasn’t that foolish. He’d promised Severus that Harry would be looked after, brought up protected and happy. From Albus’ comments throughout the years, Severus had read between the lines and knew the younger Potter to be as horridly spoiled as the elder.

But Tuney?

Albus believed wholeheartedly in family, love, and second chances. Normally, Severus appreciated this, even if it did irritate him when Albus expected Severus to treat others with the same worldview. Without it, Severus would’ve rotted in Azkaban. Severus just didn’t have Albus’ patience for idiots.

Albus’ penchant for seeing the best in people certainly shouldn’t extend to Petunia Evans – or whatever her name was now.

The idea of her having raised the boy left Severus uneasy. The prat might be Potter’s spawn, but Tuney had no business raising any magical child, let alone Lilly’s.

Severus had believed Potter led a pampered lifestyle. But if Tuney had raised him...

Severus had nearly dismissed his concerns. He’d turned to Occlumency to justify doing so – to see everything without the diminutive haze of emotion clouding his reasoning and ease his worries.

Occlumency had had the opposite effect.

Multiple things – particularly from September, when the boy would have been fresh from Petunia’s care – stood out, now that Severus knew who’d raised the boy and Occlumency stripped away his feelings for the boy’s parents. Potter’s table manners bordered feral, perhaps even worse than the youngest Weasley’s. Whenever Longbottom managed to create an explosion in Severus’s class, Potter had the most dramatic reactions, flinching the hardest or being the quickest to duck. Before, Severus had found it entertaining, but now... And the boy was so _small_...

No, Occlumency had not put Severus at ease. He both loved and hated the art at times.

Now, nearly a month into the summer hols, Severus stood at the corner of a painfully Muggle street.

Finding this street would have been faster and simpler if Severus had asked Minerva for help. As Deputy Headmistress, she kept the enchanted book holding the names and addresses of all magical children in the U.K. With her cooperation, finding Potter’s living situation would have been as simple as turning a page.

Minerva was, however, loyal to Albus and a Gryffindor through and through. Severus hadn’t been sure she wouldn’t run straight to Albus, whether to report Severus or chastise Albus herself.

So, Severus had resorted to skills developed during the war and had hopefully reached the end of his search. This had already taken more of his summer than he cared for, but he owed it to Lilly.

Anyways, Severus always used his summers to hunt. He hoped this hunt for Potter would prove more fruitful than Severus’ continuing search for Pettigrew.

The sun hung low in the sky as Severus walked up to the last lead that he’d follow for the day. He stalked down the pavement, dressed in trousers and a black button-up shirt to blend in, hair pulled into a ponytail as a concession to the heat. As he walked, he silently critiqued the uninspired architecture while looking for Number Four.

Nothing in the neighborhood possessed personality. All the houses looked alike, with the same layout in the same paint color with the same boring lawns. Each house on the street might as well have been a tomb – all these muggles alive, but not a one of them living. Cokeworth, for all its misery, had more vitality and life than this cesspit.

Towards the end of the street, he felt the soft whisper of wards across his skin. He’d arrived at the right spot, then.

Severus frowned as he examined the feel of the wards. They weren’t as strong as he would have expected for the home of the precious Boy-Who-Lived. In fact, they felt barely-there.

Perhaps a different magical family lived on this block?

Outside Number Four, two children sat on the front step eating ice cream cones. Neither child was Potter, nor any other Hogwarts student, though both looked the right age for first- or second-years. Severus studied the pair, one a skinny, rat-faced boy, while the other resembled a small, ugly whale. Severus suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the child.

The rat-boy watched him as he turned up the walk to Number Four. The ice cream engrossed the whale too much for him to spot Severus until Severus stood over the two boys.

“Who’re you?” Rat-boy asked, looking Severus up and down.

The whale blinked at Severus stupidly before turning around and shouting through the open front door, “Mum! Someone’s here!”

Severus raised a brow down at the whale. Had Tuney produced this creature? He’d have thought Rat-boy was Tuney’s progeny, given the similarly pinched features.

Severus heard footsteps before the door opened and revealed Tuney Evans. Severus saw the exact moment she registered who he was, her face twisting in anger and disgust.

“You!” Petunia spat, reaching for the whale’s arm and attempting to drag him behind her. As the boy likely weighed twenty stone, Tuney’s efforts unsurprisingly failed. The boy swatted his mother’s hand off, looking more irritated that a bit of ice cream had fallen to the pavement than anything else.

Severus smiled at Tuney, the shark-like smile he reserved for especially terrible detentions when students melted their cauldrons.

“Tuney, I hope you don’t mind?” Severus asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Petunia hissed. “Get away from here, you freak!”

Severus sneered at her.

“I assure you, I am as thrilled as you are to have me. I’m here about the boy, however,” Severus said.

Rat-boy looked confused, but now the whale edged away from Severus. Ah, so that _was_ Tuney’s boy.

Tuney had gone pale.

“That’s no concern of yours,” she said. “Leave. Now.”

“Let me in Tuney,” Severus said softly, “or I will let myself in.”

He looked down at the boys. He knew the look suggested a threat. In truth, he’d never abuse a child. He’d received enough abuse to know that only the most abhorrent monsters stooped to that level. But Severus would allow Tuney’s imagination to stretch its wings. Poor thing needed the exercise.

Petunia’s eyes darted down to the two boys. Both watched her now, one curious and one fearful. Petunia stepped out of the doorway.

“Dudders, take Piers and finish your treat in your room,” Petunia said.

Mother and son exchanged a silent message, the rat-boy studying everyone closely. The whale nodded to his mother and Tuney pursed her lips.

The whale – Dudders, really? – gave Severus a nervous glance before struggling to his feet. Severus reluctantly admired that the boy could stand under his own weight.

“C’mon Piers, let’s go,” the whale said, lumbering inside.

The rat-boy _,_ Piers, gave Severus a final shrewd look before following _Dudders_ into the house.

“Petunia, pet, is everything alright?”

Following the statement came the appearance of an obese man. While nowhere as rotund as his offspring, now Severus knew where the boy got his looks. The man caught sight of Severus and crossed his arms.

“Now, I don’t know who you are, but we’re not interested in buying anything and won’t have any of your hippy business around here.” The man gesticulated around the back of his head. Apparently, he took issue with Severus having hair long enough to put up in a ponytail. “We’re respectable people, so get.”

The man waved a hand at Severus like one shooed a dog.

Severus regretted all regulations forbidding him from hexing muggles. Instead, he stared the man down until the man’s expression waivered.

“Where is Mr. Potter?” Severus asked, stepping past Petunia even as she tried to block him from entering.

Her husband’s face turned red. “Now see here –”

“He’s not here,” Petunia said.

Severus searched for traces of Potter to refute her with. No pictures of the boy hung on the wall and none of the knickknacks indicated that a Hogwarts student lived there, however. The absence hung in the air like an eerie melody. Severus frowned. Had he been wrong?

Seeing nothing indicating Potter lived here, Severus pulled out his wand. Checking for the rat-faced boy, he flicked his wand and a ball of blue light materialized and flew up the stairs, resting outside a door.

Ignoring Petunia and her husband, Severus strode up the stairs. He reached for the door handle but stopped when he saw the locks on the outside of the door and the cat flap below.

Severus undid the locks, ignoring the spluttering from the muggle man behind him. Severus opened the door and stepped into what more closely resembled a prison cell than a bedroom.

Broken toys littered the room, though it appeared someone had attempted to pile them into one corner in an unstable heap. A few torn muggle posters for bands that Severus didn’t know and probably wouldn’t like hung on the wall. An owl cage, with Potter’s snowy perched inside and blinking with calculating eyes at Severus, sat in the corner nearest the window. Said window had bars in it. A padlock kept the snowy inside its cage. The furniture looked as though a slight breeze would break them.

The room contained a collection of unwanted castoffs. And on the bed sat Potter, staring at Severus with his mouth hanging open.

“Professor?” Potter asked.

Severus looked the boy up and down. Dressed in clothes at least seven sizes too large, Potter looked unhealthily thin. Given the clothes also looked worn and old, Severus suspected they had once belonged to Potter’s cousin.

On the boy’s cheek, Severus recognized the coloring of a forming bruise.

Severus clenched his jaw, rage rushing through him. He strode towards the boy, who scrambled back with alarm. Severus stopped himself short, taking a moment to reign in his rising temper. The boy undoubtedly thought Severus angry at him, and not those who’d done this.

“Mr. Potter, come here,” Severus said, doing his best to keep his voice level. He failed miserably. Inside, Severus seethed. The brat had obviously been abused – was _being_ abused. By bitter Tuney, and her horrible husband. One of them had struck this child, and who knew what other secrets the walls of this house kept hidden from outside eyes.

And Albus had told Severus the boy was well looked after.

Potter stared at Severus, eyes wide and wary, pressed against the far wall. Severus turned to take in the room and to make it look less likely that he’d attack the boy. He caught sight of a row of tins lined up by the door and frowned.

Taking a step closer, he noted a spoon sticking out of one and realized the reason for the dog flap. Severus appreciated that he had his back to Potter as he threw a thunderous look towards Tuney and her husband, who both stood by the door. Tuney stepped back, though her husband bristled like a bulldog. The idiot.

Severus turned back towards Potter.

“Gather your things,” Severus said. “You won’t return this summer.”

Or ever, if Severus had his way.

Potter slid tentatively towards the edge of his bed.

“Stop, boy.” Severus watched Potter flinch at his uncle’s epitaph. The brute turned to Severus. “Now see here, you can’t come into my house and order us about, even the boy. We don’t tolerate freaks, even if we’ve put up with having one for years and –”

The man kept talking, but no sound came out. Severus had cast a silencing charm before he lost his wavering self-control. The man, realizing he couldn’t speak anymore, turned crimson. Petunia wisely intervened, placing a hand on her husband’s arm to stop him from approaching Severus.

Severus closed his eyes and threw up his Occlumency shield, sheltering in the calm that came with it. He couldn’t scare the boy further. No. Not _boy_. Severus would have to remove that word from his vocabulary around Potter.

Severus had expected things were less than ideal, but he hadn’t expected it to be so blatant.

“Potter,” he said, “gather your things.”

Potter scrambled off the bed and began to grab things from around the room. He paused by the cage holding his owl, looking from his full hands to the cage.

Severus pointed his wand at the cage, and an _alohomora_ later, the lock clicked open. Potter reached to open the cage door.

“Leave it,” Snape said, walking over. Potter looked over his shoulder, still reaching for the cage. Severus inwardly seethed. Potter never followed even the simplest of instructions.

“I’ll carry it downstairs and let your owl out once we’re outside,” Severus said, going and taking the cage down.

The explanation satisfied the boy, who resumed piling things on the bed.

“Where’s your trunk?” Severus asked.

Looking around the room, he realized that he couldn’t see any of Potter’s school things amongst the debris. Potter glanced towards his aunt and uncle and Severus followed the gaze.

“Down in my cupboard, sir,” Potter said.

Severus’s eyebrows rose.

“ _Your_ cupboard?”

The boy flushed, and Severus strengthened his Occlumency shields. He would not enjoy the explanation when he pried it out of Potter.

Before long, Potter had gathered a pitifully small pile onto the bed. He looked around the room, checking for anything he might have missed. Severus caught Potter glancing at a board by his bed. Severus flicked his wand and the door slammed in Tuney and her husband’s faces.

Severus nodded at the boy, who fell to his knees and pried up a loose floorboard, pulling out a few contraband treasures. Severus had expected to see Potter’s wand at least, but it didn’t appear, just a tattered copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_ and – more disturbingly – food.

“Is that everything?” Severus asked once Potter finished cleaning out his hiding place.

Potter fiddled with the end of his sleeve and Severus resisted the urge to bark at him to stop.

“Yes sir,” Potter said.

Severus nodded.

“Good. Follow me.”

With another spell, the items gathered on Potter’s bed rose into the air and followed Severus as he threw the door open and went down the stairs, ignoring Petunia and her husband. Potter raced after him past the pair. Potter turned the corner around the stair’s base and stopped in front of a small cupboard door which, like Potter’ bedroom, had a lock on it.

Sneering, Severus unlocked the cupboard and Potter opened it. The boy lugged his trunk out by himself before Severus could give any assistance with magic. The boy began plucking from the air the items that had followed them down the stairs, putting them within his trunk.

Severus leaned over to look for any more of Potter’s possessions. Instead of school things, he found a few battered toy soldiers, a stained crib’s mattress, and a single piece of paper, _Harry’s room_ written in a cheery yellow in the un-cheeriest place Severus had ever lain eyes on.

Severus straightened and looked up the stairs where Tuney and her husband stood. The man still sputtered silently, but Tuney had fallen silent on her own, eyes locked onto Severus. He saw her fear. Wise of her, since his rage battered against his Occlumency shields, trying to seize control of him.

How dare they. How fucking dare they.

But while letting his temper explode would have felt good, Potter needed Severus calm.

Severus beat back the anger, forcing himself deeper into his shields than he’d had to go since before the fall of the Dark Lord. When he’d regained some measure of control, he closed the cupboard door and turned back to Potter.

“Is this everything?” Severus asked.

Potter nodded silently, looking from Severus, to his aunt and uncle, to that damnable cupboard, and back to Severus. Normally Severus demanded audible responses, but he’d let Potter’s silence slide, given the circumstances.

“Wait outside. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Potter offered no protest, just grabbed his trunk and dragged it out. Potter had read the situation well enough to close the front door behind him.

Severus turned back towards Tuney and her husband.

“Snape –” Tuney started.

“Don’t,” Severus said, the words snapping with a wintry crackle despite the summer heat. “I have Potter to see to, otherwise there would be a reckoning. But know that if you run, I will find you. As it is, I’ll enjoy bringing the full force of the law and wrecking you with it.”

Before either could say anything and provoke him, Severus stormed out of the house. He slammed the door, taking satisfaction with how the windows rattled in their panes. Outside, Potter stood beside his trunk, a letter in his hands. The boy looked up at Severus, his face white.

Alarm coursed through Severus and he crossed to the boy. He’d left the boy alone for less than a minute but somehow the fool child had landed in trouble.

“An owl brought it,” the boy said, holding the letter out.

Severus took the letter from Potter’s hand, scanning its contents. He untensed as he realized what he held. The little idiot had no sense of proportion and had panicked Severus over nothing. Severus folded the notice for underage magic and tucked it into a pocket.

“Wipe that look from your face, Potter. I had forgotten to write the Ministry and let them know a grown wizard was visiting before I came today. If you have a quill and a bit of spare parchment in your trunk, I can send your owl to clear this up immediately,” Severus said.

The boy’s face cleared and let loose a broad smile in Severus’s direction. Seeing it left Severus off-kilter. When was the last time someone had smiled like that at Severus?

Potter fished around until he’d found the items Severus had requested. Severus cast a critical look at the disordered array within the trunk but chose not to address that issue for the time being. Potter handed the requested items over to Severus and closed the lid.

Severus set the owl cage on the pavement and used the top of the trunk as a writing surface. He jotted a note, informing the powers-that-be that Mr. Potter had not in fact been the one performing magic. Note completed, he released Potter’s snowy from her cage and gave her the letter.

“When you’re finished, you’ll find us at Spinner’s End,” Severus told her.

The owl bobbed her head once before flying away.

With a discreet wave, Severus cast a feather-light charm on Potter’s trunk and took hold of the handle, motioning for Potter to follow. As wide open as the street was, it had no place to apparate. Notice-me-nots worked only so far. Neighbors would notice a man and boy disappearing into nothingness.

“What’s Spinner’s End, sir?” Potter asked.

Severus glanced over at the boy, suddenly unsure if he’d taken the right course. Since Severus hadn’t expected to find Potter’s home situation _that_ bad, he hadn’t made many plans for taking Potter away. Leaving the boy had been out of the question, but now...

“Spinner’s End is the name of my home,” Severus said.

The boy did a fair impression of a fish.

“Your home?” he squeaked.

Severus looked down his nose at the boy so Potter wouldn’t see how uncomfortable Severus felt.

“Would you prefer I return you to your aunt and uncle?”

Potter responded with an immediate and vigorous shake of his head, shrinking in on himself. Guilt stabbed Severus, followed swiftly by irritation at feeling the guilt. Still. Threatening the boy like that was unbecoming.

“Good, since you will never return,” Severus said.

The boy peered up at him, uncertainty on his face.

“Do you think so?”

Severus nodded. “I will see to it.”

The boy ducked his head, but not before Severus caught the start of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Snape, you hypocrite. The Dursleys set a low bar and you barely clear it.


	3. Spinner's End

Never would Harry have suspected that _Professor Snape_ turning up at the Dursleys’ would be an improvement to a miserable summer.

When he’d returned from Hogwarts, Harry had thought he and Hagrid were so clever – why not pretend Harry could use magic outside of school and avoid torment at the hands of the Dursleys?

Well, because Aunt Petunia remembered students couldn’t perform magic during summer, that’s why. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Harry that Aunt Petunia had grown up with Harry’s mum, and thus knew the rules about underage magic.

Uncle Vernon hadn’t been kind when Aunt Petunia called Harry on his lie. There’d been blood and bruising, so nothing new, but it had been uncharacteristically vicious.

Getting locked in his room had been the best part of summer. It got Harry away from his relatives. Most of his time, though, Harry had done chores. Aunt Petunia seemed determined to have Harry make up for lost time. It left Harry exhausted, but Aunt Petunia locked Harry away just as dinner finished cooking and right before Uncle Vernon came home. The captivity bored Harry, but he’d take that over interacting with his uncle.

And then Snape had appeared and just like that, Harry left the Dursleys.

Harry still couldn’t comprehend being taken to Snape’s home.

Spinner’s End both met Harry’s expectations exactly and wasn’t at all for what he would have imagined as the home of his potions professor. The house and surrounding area looked run-down and dirty, a gloom and foul odor wafting through the air. Someone had taken the colors in the area and muted them, washing the world in more greys and browns than normal.

Harry thought the dour professor fit right in but hadn’t expected the area would be so muggle. It hadn’t occurred to Harry that Professor Snape lived in an ordinary neighborhood, and the idea of Snape owning something like a television astounded Harry. Even if Snape didn’t, there was now the _possibility_.

Harry followed at Snape’s heels down the pavement, peering around as they walked. This neighborhood couldn’t have been further from Privet Drive. Paint peeled, a few doors hung crooked, cardboard blocked some of the windows, and most gardens were more weed than actual garden. Despite the dubious nature of the neighborhood, Harry liked it better purely on the merit of it being nothing like Little Whinging.

Snape turned down the walk of one of the less-rundown houses, fishing a key from his pocket, and unlocked the front door. Before he opened the door, Snape turned to Harry and folded his arms.

“Potter, I trust you realize that these are unusual circumstances. Normally, I would never allow any student into my home.” The _let alone you_ went unsaid, but Harry heard it. “However, the revelations of this afternoon dictated the necessary removal of you from your relatives. When the school year reconvenes you will not reveal what you see here. To any student. Not even Granger and the Weasley. Am I understood?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry vigorously nodded his head. Even if Snape hadn’t said so, Harry wouldn’t have dared. He would’ve feared ending up as potions ingredients.

“I require verbal responses, Potter.”

“No, sir, I won’t tell.”

Snape nodded, satisfied, and opened the door for Harry. Harry stepped past, filled with morbid curiosity. Inside, he stopped short. The first room was small and dimly lit with an armchair, sofa, and table, all thread-bare and rickety. The most notable feature was the floor to ceiling shelves on all the walls, crammed with books.

That, and the lack of doors.

“Potter.”

Harry startled, realizing he’d blocked the entrance, and moved to the side. Snape stepped in, dragging Harry’s trunk behind him, before he closed and relocked the door.

Harry examined the room, baffled by the lack of doorways. Snape caught his confused expression and a smirk crossed his face.

Snape seemed to be in a better mood than he’d had at the Dursleys, but Harry still felt uncertain about where they stood. How long would Snape be kind to Harry? Did he pity Harry now? Did he intend to use this as ammunition to keep Harry in line during the year?

Harry didn’t feel quite so rescued anymore.

“Follow me, Potter. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep,” Snape said.

Snape walked over to a section of bookcase, Harry’s trunk now floating behind the Potions Master, and pushed against the bookcase. The section swung free, revealing a staircase leading upstairs. Harry gaped before snapping his mouth shut before Snape saw and made snide comments about catching flies.

Harry followed Snape up the stairs into a hallway. Snape began walking, pointing at the doors they passed.

“That leads to the bathroom, that one is my room – which you are not to enter except in a life-threatening emergency, which had better not occur during your stay – and this,” Snape pushed open the last door, “is where you’ll sleep tonight.”

Snape motioned and Harry stepped into the room. It was about the size as Dudley’s second bedroom, but this one didn’t have all of Dudley’s junk inside, so it felt larger. The furniture – a bed, wardrobe, and desk – looked as rickety as the furniture downstairs. The walls were a dingy gray and the wallpaper peeled here and there. Everything was clean, though. Harry went to the bed and ran a hand over the comforter. It had the softness that came with old age.

Harry felt a bloom of warmth unfurl in his chest. Some of the dread that had crept in fell away. No adult had ever provided so much to him before. Even at Hogwarts, rooms were assigned to a group with no attention for the individuals staying there. Harry'd received his things there by default. This, Snape giving Harry a bedroom and not telling Harry to kip on the couch... it felt different.

“It isn’t much,” Snape began to say.

“It’s great,” Harry said.

Snape gave him an indiscernible look.

“Good,” Snape said. “Open the window for your owl, and then I’ll show you the rest. You can get organized after.”

Harry nodded and padded over to the window, throwing it open so Hedwig could get in. When he turned back towards Snape, the man impatiently motioned for Harry to follow. Harry obeyed and Snape led him back to the stairs.

“How long will I be here for?” Harry asked as they walked down.

Snape paused at the landing and turned towards Harry, grimacing.

“That remains to be seen. It’s too late in the day to go to the Ministry. If we went now, they wouldn’t have time to place you anywhere for the night. Tomorrow morning we’ll go and discuss with them a more permanent solution for you,” Snape said. “It’s possible, though not likely, that they will have you stay with me until they know where you’ll be placed.”

Harry nodded, ducking his head to not meet Snape’s eyes. He didn’t like the uncertainty of not knowing where he’d stay, feeling like unclaimed luggage at a station, but he’d put up with a lot if it meant he didn’t have to return to the Dursleys. He should be grateful, even if Snape clearly didn’t want Harry around.

“Sorry to be a bother,” Harry mumbled.

Harry’d have to prove he wouldn’t be a burden to Snape while staying with him. Harry could do any chore, thanks to Aunt Petunia, and he’d use that to stay on Snape’s good side as best he could. Harry had seen how short Snape’s temper was.

“Don’t insult me, Potter,” Snape said. “I am an adult and sought _you_ out. As an adult, I have responsibilities towards children. Don’t lump me in with the likes of Petunia. When someone lets you stay at their house, you thank them, not apologize.”

Despite what Snape said, Harry didn’t see much of a difference between Snape and Aunt Petunia, but he nodded anyways and said thank you. Harry knew to agree with adults to avoid getting punished, even when he didn’t agree.

Snape turned to continue the tour, but paused and motioned Harry closer. Harry hurried and stopped in front of Snape. Snape pulled out his wand, and Harry used all his self-control to not flinch with the wand pointed at his face.

“Episkey,” Snape said.

Harry’s cheek went hot, then cold. When the sensation faded, Harry touched his cheek. The pain from his bruise had disappeared.

“Do you have any other injuries?” Snape said, casting a meaningful glance at the long sleeves Harry wore.

Harry flushed and looked down at his feet, shaking his head as he fiddled with the end of his sleeve.

“It was just the one, this time,” Harry murmured.

Snape paused before placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“That should not be done to any child.” Snape sounded stiff, and Harry realized Snape felt as uncomfortable as Harry. “I am... displeased you were harmed.”

Harry nodded, not meeting Snape’s eyes, otherwise he’d combust with embarrassment. Funnily enough, Harry believed Snape, even if they’d never gotten along. The man had already saved Harry’s life once, after all.

Maybe Snape differed from Aunt Petunia a bit.

“Good,” Snape said, withdrawing his hand and clearing his throat. “Follow me, then.”

Snape approached a different section of bookcase and pushed on it, revealing another hallway.

“How many doors are in the bookcase?” Harry asked, following his professor.

Snape looked back over his shoulder and smirked. “Three.”

“Where’s the third go? And why did you hide the doors?” Harry asked.

“The third leads to a wine cellar, and thus has no relevance to you. As for why, I ran out of room for my books.” Harry thought he might have actually seen the corners of Snape’s mouth curl up. “And the few times I’ve let someone into my house, I’ve enjoyed their look of confusion.”

Harry resisted rolling his eyes and didn’t comment.

Snape pointed at a door as he walked past it.

“That is my potions lab. You will not be allowed in or you will have detention every day when school starts again,” Snape said. “I didn’t rescue you from Petunia to have you blow yourself up.”

Harry nodded to Snape’s back and Snape paused, looking over his shoulder.

“I expect an acknowledgement, Potter.”

“Yessir, I won’t go in,” Harry said.

“See that you don’t. I’m not joking about those detentions,” Snape said.

Harry didn’t doubt that.

Snape continued walking. “I’ll show you the kitchen, then.”

The kitchen was more impressive than the rest of the house. In one corner stood a small table with two chairs, but the rest of the kitchen was as high-quality as Aunt Petunia’s. It boasted modern muggle appliances as well as an old-fashioned fireplace, the kind with a ledge spanning the whole wall. 

“Do you like to cook, sir?” Harry asked.

Snape nodded. “There is a good deal of overlap between cooking and potions. If you’re talented in one, you’re likely to be talented in the other.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “You’d think I’d be good at potions, then.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You cook?”

“Yeah, Aunt Petunia made me do all the cooking as soon as I could see the top of the stove,” Harry said. “She never wanted me to make anything interesting, but I’m good at it.”

Snape’s face had turned dark. He turned away for a moment, and when he turned back around his expression had blanked.

Harry swallowed. Had he said something wrong? Did Snape think Harry shouldn’t complain, that he was arrogant and ungrateful? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had called Harry that plenty of times. Or was Snape angry that Harry wasn’t better at potions? Most adults didn’t hide their emotions and displayed their displeasure with Harry clearly. For as long as he’d known Snape, the professor had followed suit. Only Harry’s aunt and uncle had been more vocal about their distaste for Harry. Now, Snape had broken pattern and the change left Harry unmoored. Was Snape toying with Harry?

“There’s someone you should meet, since we don’t know how long you’ll be here,” Snape said, unaware of Harry’s internal panic.

Snape’s words jerked Harry to the present and he gaped at Snape. “Are you married?”

Snape startled and pain crossed his face. Snape’s shoulders tensed, and Harry shrank away from the obvious displeasure.

“No,” Snape snapped.

Harry could hear the pain behind the word, though Snape had obviously tried to hide it. Harry nodded, hoping the conversation ended as soon as possible and that Snape didn’t kick him out. Or kick Harry.

Rather than retaliating, Snape opened a door on the far side of the kitchen and exited without looking to make sure Harry followed. Guiltily, Harry slunk out after him.

All the outdoor space at Spinner’s End was dedicated to raising plants of every shape and color. The walkway through the plants appeared to be a begrudged concession to the need to walk, plants crowding over the cobblestone path in protest.

Harry looked around, eyes wide, at the garden. At Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia – or really, Harry – had grown mostly lawn and flowers, but here Harry saw only potions ingredients. The plants grew thick and abundant, with planters stacked along the garden’s walls to work in more growing space. Having tended Aunt Petunia’s garden his whole life, Harry appreciated the amount of work that had gone into the garden. 

“How do you tend this garden _and_ teach potions?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

Snape shook his head. “I don’t tend the garden. I haven’t the time.”

“Master has a guest!”

Harry turned towards the noise and saw the strangest creature he’d ever seen. It was small, coming up only to Harry’s waist. It had leathery skin, bat-like ears, large feet, eyes as big as tennis balls, and wore a pillowcase with a design of little flowers. It smiled ear to ear and ran up to Snape, beaming at the professor and then at Harry.

“Harry, this is Flootsy, my house-elf. She maintains the gardens and cleans Spinner’s End, as well as maintaining my personal quarters at Hogwarts. Flootsy, this is Mr. Harry Potter. He’ll be staying here tonight,” Snape said.

“Flootsy is pleased to meet Mr. Harry Potter,” the little creature said, beaming at Harry.

Harry gave her an unsure smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Flootsy, so long as Mr. Potter is staying here, you won’t be cleaning the spare bedroom.” Snape looked up at Harry. “I’ll expect you to maintain your own room.”

Harry nodded, thinking it obvious.

“Verbal responses, Potter,” Snape reminded Harry.

“Yessir, I understand. What other chores will I have?” Harry asked.

Snape looked at Harry speculatively. “For now, nothing. There’s no point assigning chores if you’re not staying past tomorrow. If you’re here on a longer basis, we’ll revisit the issue.”

Harry nodded, trying to imagine a life without chores. He couldn’t picture it. He remembered to say ‘ok’ right as Snape seemed ready to scold Harry.

Snape looked Harry over. “When was the last time you were fed properly?”

“Err...” Harry shifted from one foot to the other. “What counts as well-fed?”

Snape scowled. “I thought as much, given those tins in your room, but hoped I’d be wrong. Dinner won’t be terribly exciting, but we have to be careful with what you eat until you’re used to being properly fed again.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen. Go upstairs and straighten up your things,” Snape said.

Harry spluttered. “I just got here, I haven’t had time to make a mess.”

Snape scowled at him. “I caught you by surprise and you crammed everything into your trunk. And I saw what your trunk looked like _before_ that.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, but it doesn’t need it.”

Snape glared at Harry.

“I will not tolerate any lip,” Snape said.

Harry gulped and nodded. Uncle Vernon didn’t tolerate lip either.

“Yes sir,” he said.

Harry headed inside. In the front room, it took Harry a minute to open the door to the first floor before heading back to the room he was staying in. When he opened the door, a hoot greeted him.

“You found us,” Harry said, smiling at Hedwig.

She hooted again and extended her leg, which had a letter tied to it. Curious, Harry took it.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_The Improper Use of Magic Office has received notification from Mr. Severus Snape, Potions Master, of his presence at Number Four Privet Drive on the twenty-first of July and of his use of magic at the aforementioned address. In light of this, the uses of magic performed on that date have been removed from your Underage Magic Use records. Please keep in mind that underage magic is not permitted outside of school. Enjoy your Holiday!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

Harry gave a relieved smile.

“Thanks, Hedwig,” he said. “Have you had a chance to hunt yet?”

Hedwig nipped at Harry affectionately before hopping onto the windowsill.

“I’ll have some owl treats out after you’ve found your supper,” Harry promised.

Hedwig hooted and flew out the window.

Feeling better, Harry opened his trunk and grimaced. He’d denied it earlier, but looking at it, he admitted Snape had a point. Harry had rushed to pack after getting released from the hospital wing at the end of the schoolyear and had mostly thrown things into his trunk. The mad dash to get out of the Dursley’s hadn’t helped any.

Sighing, Harry began cleaning out his trunk.

About an hour later, Harry had everything out of his trunk and sorted into piles. The amount of rubbish that he’d never thrown away surprised him. Harry piled the rubbish farthest from the trunk, waiting for him to ask Snape what he should do with it. For the rest, Harry began putting everything away.

There was a knock.

Harry hopped between his piles to the door. Opening it, he found Snape.

“Dinner is ready,” Snape said.

Snape’s eyes passed Harry and the professor examined the room. With everything out of his trunk, the room looked chaotic.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Harry reassured.

Snape’s expression hadn’t changed, but still managed to pull off a judgmental look.

“If you leave anything behind, you won’t see it again,” Snape said.

Harry shook his head. “I won’t forget anything.”

“Good, then come downstairs to eat. You can finish this after,” Snape said. 

Harry nodded, pleasantly surprised he didn’t have to finish with his trunk before eating. The two went down to the kitchen. On the table, two bowls of a thin soup with accompanying pieces of toast awaited.

Harry watched in surprise as Snape took one of the seats. Snape raised a brow at Harry.

“Coming?”

Harry took the seat opposite Snape’s, heart pounding. As silly as it sounded, he’d never eaten like this at a table before, aside from Hogwarts. Sitting with only Snape proved more stressful than any Great Hall meal had been.

Wrenching his mind from the familiarity of sitting at a table with his professor, Harry frowned at the food.

“This is what you’ll need to eat until your stomach adjusts to having food again,” Snape said, misunderstanding Harry’s expression. “More adventurous foods will come later. You’ll be grateful later tonight when you can keep the food down without issues.”

Harry gestured at Snape’s plate.

“I understand that. I had stomach troubles when I arrived at Hogwarts last year. I just – Why are you having this too?” Harry said.

“Mr. Potter, I am hardly going to make you watch me eat something more appetizing than what I’m serving you. So long as you’re here, we’ll eat the same food, barring a food allergy. Do you have an allergy?” Harry shook his head. “Then we’ll eat the same meals. For the time being, that means I’ll adjust to your diet.”

Harry nodded and sat, looking down at his food, both upset and pleased. Snape would have been justified giving Harry a special diet and not participating. That Snape ate the same meal as Harry felt... good. Harry’d never associated the feeling with Snape.

Harry picked up his spoon and began to eat the broth and boiled vegetables.

“Hedwig arrived, and she had a letter saying that they know I didn’t use magic earlier,” Harry said.

Snape nodded. “I received a similar post after you went upstairs.”

Snape put down his spoon. Harry looked up from his own bowl, sensing something unpleasant.

“Harry, I have a question. I’d like you to answer honestly,” Snape said.

Worried, Harry nodded with reluctance.

“The cupboard we got your trunk from. Did you ever stay in it?”

Harry flushed, so he looked at his broth and poked it with his spoon. He didn’t want to admit anything, and certainly not to Snape. He debated lying but realized he’d missed his opportunity. Snape was a Slytherin – Harry’s initial reaction would make the answer obvious. A lie would only anger Snape.

Harry knew he needed to answer but words wouldn’t form. Silence stretched between them, Snape waiting Harry out, sitting in a predatory stillness for Harry to make the first move.

Harry hunched his shoulders.

“Yes. I stayed there until my first Hogwarts letter. The address said _Cupboard Under the Stairs_. I got moved to Dudley’s second bedroom after that.” If Harry had been looking, he’d have seen Snape’s lips thin. “I’d also get locked in if I got in trouble.”

Snape opened his mouth, closed it, then ate a spoon of broth. He chewed on his next words more than the meal itself.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mr. Potter,” Snape said.

Harry nodded curtly.

Snape let the conversation go. They finished eating in silence, and afterwards Harry fled back up to the spare bedroom. By the time Harry finished organizing his trunk, there was a knock and Snape stuck his head in.

“It’s time for bed,” Snape said.

Harry nodded. “I’m about done with my trunk, then I’ll get ready. What should I do with my rubbish?”

Snape looked over the pile.

“Leave it for tonight. In the morning, call Flootsy by name and she’ll show you where to bin it,” Snape said.

“Okay, thanks,” Harry said.

Snape nodded. “Sleep well, Potter.”

“You too, professor,” Harry said.

Snape closed the door and Harry listened to the sound of him walking away. Harry sat there, staring at the door before he roused himself and finished the last few things he had to do before bed.

He crawled beneath the covers, tucking the blankets up to his chin and angling himself to see the stars through the window. Harry soaked in the quiet settling over the house and replayed the day. Leaving the Dursleys still dumbfounded him, though not as much as finding himself at Snape’s. By all rights, Harry should probably fear for his life, staying at Snape’s. Harry’d gotten a full meal and hadn’t been hit once, though.

As he drifted off, Harry dared to hope that maybe, finally, things were looking up.


	4. To the Ministry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes, this chapter almost doubles this fic's previous length. I almost broke this into 2 chapters, but I think they work better as one unit.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I'm glad to know you're enjoying the ride so far. Hope you enjoy!

Harry woke up early the next morning and lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Habit told him he should get up and start on chores, but he wasn’t at the Dursleys and at Snape’s the only chore Harry had was to keep the spare bedroom clean.

A single day had upended Harry’s world. 

Harry’s stomach growled and he reluctantly emerged from the covers. He inspected the pile of rubbish on the floor from the night before. Snape had said to talk with Flootsy, but how was Harry supposed to find her? Would she even be awake yet?

Frowning, Harry walked down to the kitchen for something to eat. He considered waiting for Snape to eat together but decided Snape would be fine with Harry having toast without Snape. The Dursleys didn’t like eating with Harry. Snape had treated Harry better so far, but Harry remembered Snape from the school year and wasn’t completely convinced his professor wanted to eat with Harry either. Harry didn’t think he’d have to resort to sneaking the toast, though, unlike he would’ve at the Dursleys. If Harry had to, he’d eat another piece of toast when Snape had breakfast and pretend that he hadn’t eaten yet.

Decided, Harry put bread in the toaster and turned to find Flootsy behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, Flootsy apologizes for startling Harry Potter,” the house-elf said.

Harry smiled at her. “It’s okay. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh, that’s because Flootsy popped in,” Flootsy said.

Harry tilted his head. “Popped in?”

Flootsy nodded enthusiastically, then disappeared only to appear at the other end of the kitchen. Harry’s eyes bulged.

“Wow,” he said. “Can all house-elves do that? Or do you have to be taught how to do that?”

Flootsy shook her head. “House-elves aren’t taughts magic, Harry Potter. House-elves are not be wizards and witches. House-elves knows how to use magic without teaching.”

“That’s really impressive,” Harry said.

Flootsy gave Harry a wide smiled.

“Thank you, Harry Potter,” she said.

“Just call me Harry,” he said. “By the way, I’m supposed to ask you to show me where to throw the rubbish out.”

Flootsy sighed and shook her head, smiling to herself.

“Did I say something wrong?” Harry asked, shifting and looking at the ground.

“No, sir,” Flootsy said. “Flootsy is shaking her head at her Master. Flootsy knows he’s wanting to give Harry responsibilities, but he’s not letting Flootsy do her job as his elf, sir.”

“Your job? This isn’t what you and Snape agreed on? I’m just cleaning out my rubbish,” Harry said. “I doubt taking care of my trash was part of your job description when Snape hired you.”

Flootsy’s gasped and clutched at her heart. “Flootsy wasn’t _hired_ by Master. Flootsy is speaking of when Master inherited Flootsy.”

Harry froze, staring at Flootsy with horror. Just when he thought Snape wasn’t so bad...

“Snape _owns_ you? You’re – you’re what, his slave?”

Flootsy’s brow furrowed, before it cleared and she smiled at him.

“Muggles raised Harry?” Flootsy asked.

Harry frowned. “Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he said.

Flootsy patted Harry’s arm.

“Master was upset when he met Flootsy too.” Flootsy pointed at the little table in the corner of the kitchen. “Sit down. Flootsy will explain to Mr. Harry Potter like she explained to Master Severus.”

Giving Flootsy a doubtful expression, Harry did as told. As he sat, the toaster popped. Harry stood to retrieve his toast, but Flootsy waved Harry away. She plated the toast, buttered it, got a glass of water, and brought the breakfast over to Harry. She gave him a wink as she took the seat opposite Harry.

“Flootsy isn’t supposed to work in the kitchen, but Flootsy and Harry needs to have this conversation.” She leaned in and whispered the next bit conspiratorially. “House-elves aren’t supposed to sit at tables with humans, but this made Master feel better when Flootsy had this conversation with him. Eat, and Flootsy will talk.”

Frowning, Harry took a bite of toast. Flootsy smiled at him.

“House-elves are having masters, Mr. Harry,” Flootsy said. “We are in a... what did Master call it? House-elves lives a reciprocal relationship with their masters, Harry.”

“How so?”

“House-elves needs the magic of wizard homes to survive, sir,” Flootsy said. “Without active magic existing in the home, house-elves gets sick. Many ages ago, house-elves and humans comes to an agreement. House-elves are loyal to the humans they live with and work for the humans, and the humans haves the house-elves work for them. This made house-elves happy. House-elves enjoys knowing where they belong, and that they are useful. Without that, house-elves becomes sad and sick.”

Harry frowned. “So... you’re saying you’re _happy_ to be owned by Snape?”

Flootsy nodded. “Flootsy was very happy to be meeting Master Severus Snape. Before he claimed his inheritance, Flootsy had worried that she didn’t have a master and would waste away. Master Severus Snape offered to free Flootsy when he met her, but Flootsy didn’t want hear such rot.”

“Huh.” Harry turned it over in his mind. He didn’t like it, but if Flootsy was happy, he wasn’t sure he had place to complain. Especially if she needed this to be healthy.

Flootsy hopped off her chair and patted Harry’s arm again.

“You are a good person, Mr. Harry, sir. But Flootsy is telling you, everything is good with her and Master. If it makes Harry feel better, Flootsy knows Master Snape is one of the kindest masters to own a house-elf.”

Harry blinked at the oddity of _Snape_ and _kind_ being used in the same sentence.

Flootsy padded across the kitchen and opened a cupboard door.

“This is where the rubbish bin is kept. If Harry needs anything else, Flootsy is working in the garden,” Flootsy said.

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Flootsy.”

Flootsy gave Harry a final smile before heading out the back door. Harry finished his toast, thinking over what Flootsy had said.

As Harry stood to clean up his breakfast, Snape walked into the kitchen. Unlike the previous day, when he’d worn muggle clothing (and hadn’t _that_ been a shock), he wore the usual all-black robes.

Snape eyed the plate Harry held.

“What did you eat for breakfast?” Snape asked.

Harry gulped, worried he’d misjudged.

“Toast. It’s part of what we ate last night, so I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Harry said.

Rather than growing angry, however, Snape nodded.

“Good. I plan on leaving for the Ministry as soon as it opens. There’s just enough time for me to eat and you to get dressed.” Harry looked down at his pajamas, some of the oldest and rattiest of Dudley’s castoffs.

Snape eyed Harry’s pajamas too.

“Do you own anything that isn’t a hand-me-down?” Snape asked.

The words weren’t said nastily, but they still made Harry feel small and unwanted.

“My school things,” Harry mumbled.

Snape made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Go change. I’ll transfigure whatever you’re wearing into something presentable. We don’t have time to shop before going to the Ministry. Technically I’ve kidnapped you.”

He said the last bit dryly, and Harry looked up in surprise. He didn’t feel kidnapped. Snape caught his expression and shrugged.

“It’s more of a rescue, but people act irrationally when it comes to you, Potter,” Snape said.

Harry frowned, remembering visiting the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid as well as the whispers that had followed him around the castle for the first few weeks of school, but also at Snape’s tone of voice.

“It’s not like I asked for this,” Harry said, sullen. “Why would I want to be famous for something that horrible? I’d rather have parents.”

His tone had dipped into petulance, and Snape eyed him like Harry was a potion Snape didn’t recognize. A pause thrummed between them before Snape simply said, “go change, Potter” and Harry did just that. It felt like something had happened, but what Harry couldn’t begin to guess.

Harry changed, selecting the least offensive of Dudley’s castoffs. The clothes were still horrendous, but knowing Snape would make them better buoyed Harry’s mood, even if it embarrassed harry to be dressed like this in front of Snape. It already felt miraculous that the potions professor hadn’t ridiculed Harry yet.

Finished changing, Harry grabbed as much of the rubbish as he could and headed down to the kitchen, throwing it away. Snape hadn’t finished eating, so Harry made a second trip to his rubbish heap and continued until it all disappeared into the bin.

By then, Snape had finished his breakfast. The professor stood, dusting himself off from some flaw in his appearance only he could see, and beckoned Harry over. He pointed his wand at Harry and murmured an unfamiliar spell.

The clothes shrunk, and Harry felt happy to no longer feel like someone had dressed him in an elephant’s skin. The fabric grew stronger, thicker. The shirt transformed into a button-down of deep purple and the shorts extended down into black trousers. Harry’s sneakers, by now more duct tape than shoe, became shiny black dress shoes. When the transformation completed, Harry looked much better, if perhaps like a swot. Or worse, like Malfoy.

Harry fingered his shirt and couldn’t suppress the edge of a smile.

“It will do for the time being,” Snape said.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t all in black,” Harry said, grinning at Snape before faltering. Had he teased Snape? Harry had never seen a _Slytherin_ tease the Potions Master, and he panicked at how Snape would react.

Snape did not hex Harry. Instead, he took a tea towel from a drawer and waved his wand at it, transforming it into black robes, which he handed to Harry.

“I trust this sufficiently makes up for the spot of color?” Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry felt his jaw drop. Snape... Snape joked?

Snape sneered and turned away, tidying up his dishes. “Close your mouth, Potter. I do not need a fly trap.”

Harry shut his jaw, still boggled at what he’d witnessed. Ron and Hermione were never going to believe him.

Harry frowned then, remembering he hadn’t heard from his friends this summer. He hadn’t had friends before last school year, but they’d promised to write. Had they realized Harry was a freak even by wizarding standards and no longer wanted to be his friends? He didn’t want to believe it, but Harry couldn’t think of any other reason.

“Well then, I believe we are ready,” Snape said. “Do you have your wand?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not allowed to use magic during the summer.”

“Run upstairs and fetch it. You’ll be wanting to bring that for identification when we go to the Ministry,” Snape said.

Harry ran upstairs, pulling his wand out from his trunk. He closed his trunk and winced at the noise before hurrying back downstairs. Snape waited by the door, scowling.

“I hadn’t meant to literally run upstairs, Potter,” Snape said.

“Err, sorry, sir,” Harry said.

“See that you don’t repeat yourself,” Snape said, opening the door.

Snape paused in the doorway, examining Harry. Snape reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a handkerchief. With a quick bit of wand work, the handkerchief became a hat, which Snape handed to Harry.

“Wear this to cover your scar,” Snape said. “Hopefully it will keep us from being noticed. Unless you’d prefer being ogled?”

Harry grimaced, taking the hat and wedging it as low as possible. He held his arms out for inspection and Snape gave him a nod before stepping outside.

Harry followed, doing his best to balance being quick while not running. Snape closed the door and locked it.

With a motion to follow, Snape walked in the direction they’d come from last night. Harry winced. They’d done something called apparition yesterday, and Harry had found the method of travel unpleasant. What was wrong with using public transport like sensible people?

The pair made their way to what Snape called the apparition point. Harry took Snape’s proffered arm with resignation, squeezing tightly as the unpleasant hook and spinning sensation seized him. The sensation stopped as soon as it began, and Harry floundered to keep his footing.

He’d have fallen over, were it not for Snape grabbing Harry’s shoulder to steady him. As it was, Harry’s stomach began to rebel in an alarming fashion, but before Harry could sick all over the pavement, Snape pushed a bottle into Harry’s hands with instructions to drink. Harry obeyed and his stomach calmed, much to his relief.

Harry murmured a quiet thanks, handing back the bottle, before the two stepped into an old telephone booth, graffiti scrawled all over it. Harry looked at Snape in confusion.

“This is how the Ministry entrance from the muggle side of London is hidden,” Snape said. “It’s enchanted so no muggle can see inside or notice the box. On rare occasions, though, a muggle with an unusually high resistance to Notice-Me-Not charms walks past, so the entrance is disguised.”

A woman’s voice spoke then, startling Harry. Snape calmly stated both his and Harry’s name, and the department they were seeing. Two visitor badges fell out of the coin dispenser, and with a whoosh they were spinning again, distressingly like apparition.

The entrance flung them into a large lobby, close to the size of an auditorium. Marble gleamed and hundreds of wizards and witches flurried past in a sea of sound and color. A statue stood above the crowd, but Harry couldn’t see past the adults to get a good look. Harry wanted to stare at everything, but instead ducked his head and followed professor. He sent a silent plea that they wouldn’t get mobbed like at the Leaky Cauldron.

They did not get mobbed, because no one recognized Harry. He felt immensely grateful for the hat Snape had made. They got through security, Snape murmuring a few unintelligible words to the witch at the wand checkpoint. She gave Harry a sympathetic glance but waved him through without comment. Harry wondered if she’d recognized him or merely thought him another poor orphan with unfortunate relatives.

Either way, Snape and Harry made their way to the department that read _Family Services_. Snape stepped up to the bored receptionist, motioning for Harry to sit in a chair. Harry watched from beneath the brim of his hat as Snape and the receptionist talked quietly, Snape gesturing at Harry once.

The receptionist wrote something on a piece of paper, and it flew off. Snape nodded to the man and seated himself next to Harry. Harry looked around, doing his best not to fidget.

Before long, a piece of paper came sailing through the air and landed at the front desk. The receptionist read it, then looked up at Snape and Harry with a smile.

“Ms. Crilly can see you,” he said, indicating the door the memo had come from.

Snape stood, giving the receptionist a nod, before crossing the receptionist area and entering the office of Ms. Crilly, Harry on his heels. Once both were inside, the door shut of its own accord.

The office was clean, though a fair number of toys lined the shelves and a side table, suited for a wide range of ages. Books and a few knickknacks, presumably Ms. Crilly’s, filled the rest of the shelves outside a child’s reach.

Ms. Crilly herself stood up behind her desk, gesturing for Harry and Snape to sit across from her desk. She wore light blue robes with a white blouse and tan skirt underneath. The colors stood in a pleasant contrast to her dark skin. Her hair was cut short against her scalp, shorter than Harry’d ever seen a woman’s hair before. Aunt Petunia would have been scandalized. She smiled at the pair.

“Please, gentlemen, take a seat. My name is Emilia Crilly, but please, call me Em. Connor’s memo didn’t mention much, just that were asking for complete confidentiality.” Harry snuck a grateful peak at Snape. “I assure you, all our cases are confidential, gentlemen. There won’t be any outside discussions occurring, barring any aurors or judicial staff brought into the case.”

Snape gave a sharp nod. “I trusted as much, but this has the potential to be a particularly... volatile case.”

Snape motioned at Harry, and Harry dutifully took of his hat. He ran a hand through his hair to neaten it, but figured the effort doomed. Em’s eyes had widened slightly as she took Harry in, but otherwise she kept a professional demeanor. Harry’s opinion of her skyrocketed. 

Em turned to Snape.

“I see. We’ll take the appropriate measures,” Em said. She glanced at Harry before turning her attention to Snape. “What brings you gentlemen here today?”

“Do you have a pensieve?” Snape asked.

Em nodded. “We use them regularly in this department.”

She took down what looked to Harry like an oversized goblet from a shelf. Em set it on her desk and Snape raised his wand to his own temple. When he pulled his wand away, something silvery and thread-like came with the wand. Snape deposited the silvery stuff into the goblet and the substance expanded, filling the goblet.

Em smiled at the pair of them.

“I’ll take a quick look, and then we can discuss the particulars,” she said, before leaning forward and sticking her head into the silver substance.

Harry recoiled. He didn’t recognize the silvery stuff, but he certainly didn’t want to put his face in it.

“It’s my memory.”

Snape spoke quietly, and Harry looked at him in surprise. He turned back to the silvery substance – a _memory_ – and felt a bit less repulsed.

“It’s what occurred yesterday when I visited your aunt and uncle’s. It’s enough to get your case started,” Snape explained.

“Oh. Okay,” Harry said.

They waited in silence for a few more minutes before Em raised her head, her mouth a stern line.

“I’ll need to keep a copy of this memory for documentation,” Em said.

Snape nodded, and Em pulled out a bottle and her wand. With a copy stored away and the original returned to Snape’s head, Em turned her attention back to Harry and Snape.

She gave Harry a gentle smile, and Harry knew she meant well, but bristled. The pity raked against his skin like a sandpaper kiss.

“Well then, Mr. Potter. We can start an investigation with what Professor Snape provided. We will also need you to provide a few of your own memories. I know it may be unpleasant, but this will help ensure you won’t have to return to your aunt and uncle’s anytime soon.”

Harry still hated the tone, but he nodded all the same.

“We’ll deal with the memory extraction in a minute,” Em said. “For now, we have sufficient grounds to remove you from your current residence while the situation is evaluated. Our first step shall be sorting out where you’ll stay while we bring a suit against your relatives.”

Em reached for quill and parchment, scribbling off a memo. She stamped a large _Confidential_ on it, then sent the memo flying away.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“A request for a copy of your parents’ Will, if they had one. It’s probable that they did, given the time period they died and how uncertain those times were.” She caught Harry’s expression and moved on. “Anyways, it’s procedure. If we have an orphan needing somewhere to stay, and their parents have a Will in place, we consult the Will to see if there are any alternative arrangements listed. It usually takes Records a bit of time, though, so we’ll work on the memory extractions while we wait.”

Em smiled at Snape.

“Usually, I’d have to ask you to leave, but given the circumstances, I believe you suitably represent another authority in Harry’s wellbeing. It certainly doesn’t hurt that you two are already familiar with each other from school.” She beamed, clearly not knowing of the pair’s history. “Either way, when dealing with anything coming close to Mind Magic, Ministry employees need another party present. It prevents abuse.”

Em turned towards Harry and peered at his face.

“If I saw correctly, you had a bruise yesterday?” Em asked.

Harry nodded. “Snape healed it.”

Em smiled. “Glad to hear.”

She pulled out another memo and wrote on it before sending it off, flying until it swooped and slid under the door of her office. Harry gave her a questioning look.

“That was a request for a Healer to come do a physical on you. We need to ensure there’s no other injuries, and anything we find needs to be documented. Have you healed anything else, Mr. Snape?” Em asked.

Snape shook his head. “Just the one bruise. Mr. Potter claims he does not have any others, though the way he worded it made it sound like he’s experienced them before.”

Em’s mouth returned to its tight line.

“Yes, well, that should all appear in the medical history once the Healer arrives. The Healers have sworn vows of confidentiality, of course. No need to worry about information getting out through those quarters,” Em said. “Now, on to the memories?”

What followed was a heap of unpleasantness. The trio spent an hour discussing which memories were best for extraction, and then performed said extractions. Harry loathed reliving the worst of his childhood, and worse, discussing it with Snape and a stranger. Only the hope that he wouldn’t need to return to the Dursleys kept Harry from bolting.

Em’s face didn’t change, though her cheerfulness strained the further into the hour they went. Snape’s expression gave away nothing.

It worried Harry. His professor had helped Harry so far, had been the only person to _ever_ help Harry with this. All the other adults had either not noticed or not cared – Harry wasn’t sure which. Snape had been the first to notice _and_ care, even though Harry wondered what had tipped his professor off.

And Snape had spent the schoolyear hating Harry, maybe _still_ hated Harry even if Snape was being nice right now.

But absurd as it sounded, the thought of Snape abandoning Harry terrified Harry. He didn’t want his professor to look at him and say Harry wasn’t worth it. Or worse, that Harry didn’t deserve it. Afterall, wasn’t Harry a wizard? Harry had magic, but his relatives were muggles. Shouldn’t Harry have been able to protect himself?

After the hour of memory extraction, a chime sounded. Em brightened as the sound faded.

“And that lets me know that a Will has arrived. What perfect timing. Shall we take a break from the memories, gentlemen?” Em asked.

Weary, Harry agreed.

Em put her pensieve and the bottles of Harry’s memories aside, pulling out a wooden box. Its only decoration was Em’s surname spelled out in metal letters.

“For security, we don’t send Wills flying around the Ministry like memos. For any department that consults Wills regularly, we’re given these boxes. We send requests to records, and they send copies to our individualized boxes,” Em said, opening the box’s lid.

Em frowned at the Will in the box and pulled it out.

“Odd,” she muttered.

Snape stirred in his chair.

“What is odd?” he asked.

“This Will hasn’t been read,” Em said. “It should have been opened within two weeks of the Potter’s deaths. Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll have to do some extra steps.”

Em pulled her wand out, tapping it to the seal on the Will. The tip of her wand glowed.

“I, Emilia Crilly, am with Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Severus Snape today, the twenty-second of July, 1992. We are in Emilia Crilly’s office in Family Services, the Ministry of Magic, to read the Will of James and Lilly Potter regarding the guardianship of Mr. Harry Potter,” Em said.

The light at the tip of her wand pulsed to blue and Em broke the seal of the Will. She glanced up at Harry and Snape.

“I can’t do anything about the other contents of the Will, since it’s not in my area, but I’ll be sure Legal looks at it. This should have been looked at years ago,” Em said.

Harry frowned, wondering what had happened. He glanced over and saw Snape frowning as well.

Em skimmed over the Will before looking at Harry with a smile.

“Have you a guess what your parents said about your guardianship?” Em asked.

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t even know they had a Will. Most of my life, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told me that my parents were drunks who got themselves killed. People like that don’t leave Wills for their kids.”

Rage flashed across Em’s face, her face contorted into a near-snarl. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Snape stiffening. Harry shifted in his chair, angling to better see both adults in the room. Experience kept him ready, perched for flight the moment either reached to strike him.

Em cleared her throat before looking at Snape. “Have you any guess as to the guardianship?”

Snape snorted, his usual composure regained. “No. I hadn’t known of its existence either, though I am not surprised to find it existed.”

Em gave them an odd smile, smoothing down a section of the parchment.

“Let’s see. The first guardian mentioned is Sirius Black. He won’t do, obviously,” Em said.

Snape nodded with a sneer. Harry looked between them.

“Err, sorry,” Harry said, “but what’s obvious?” 

Em looked surprised, and then shifted in her chair. She glanced away, unable to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Sirius Black is in Azkaban,” Em said.

Harry glanced at Snape for clarification.

“The wizarding prison,” Snape said.

“Oh,” Harry said dully, because of _course_ his guardian was in prison.

“The second option on the list is Frank and Alice Longbottom, but again, obviously –” Em glanced at Harry and stopped what she’d been about to say. “I am afraid that the Longbottoms are in St. Mungo’s permanently after supporters of You-Know-Who hunted them down after his disappearance.”

Harry looked at Snape for clarification. “A hospital?”

Snape nodded.

Em looked between them.

“There is one other party named as a suitable guardian for Harry,” Em said.

“Potter’s aunt and uncle, then?” Snape said, disdain in his voice.

Em frowned and looked down at the Will. “No, actually, they’re not mentioned at all. Frankly, I have no idea how Harry ended up with them. Something to look into. Can you guess the third party now?”

Snape sighed. “Remus Lupin would be the next most obvious party, I would imagine.”

Em grinned, even as Harry wanted to ask who this Lupin fellow was, but Em’s laugh cut him off. “No, there’s a Remus Lupin mentioned in a different part of the Will, but for Harry’s guardianship.”

Snape tilted his head a moment before shaking it. “I can think of no other parties the Potters would have entrusted Harry to.”

Em’s grin widened. “As it so happens, it’s you.”

Both Harry and Snape startled, looking over at each other with matching expressions of shock. Em pushed the Will towards Snape, who snatched it up and read through it. The color had drained from his face, and Harry’s insides squelched unpleasantly. So, Snape was supposed to have been his guardian all along. From his reaction, though, Snape didn’t want the responsibility.

Harry shrank in his chair.

“I had no idea,” Snape murmured, looking pained. “She never mentioned...”

Harry jerked his head up.

“ _She_? You knew my mum?” Harry asked.

Snape hesitated but then looked at Harry and his wide-eyed, poorly hidden eagerness at any mention of his mother. Snape seemed to brace himself.

“We were friends. We... we grew up near each other and were in the same year at Hogwarts. She was my best friend, until I... I provoked a falling out in our fifth year. We didn’t speak after that.” Snape looked down at the Will in his hands. “We’d started to repair our relationship shortly before her death, but I didn’t think she trusted me that much, not with something as important as her son.”

The last words were soft, and Harry suspected that if Snape were a less stern man, he’d have cried by the end of it. Em had looked away at some point, giving a show of privacy. Harry couldn’t look away, even if it were the polite thing, even if Snape would be angry later that Harry hadn’t. Harry couldn’t help but stare, hungry for more words. Snape had known Harry’s _mum_...

Snape might be the closest Harry ever got to the woman who’d died for him.

...

Ms. Crilly cleared her throat, again, breaking the other two out of their respective dazes. Severus tore his eyes from the Will, the impossible Will, and up to the social worker. She contemplated Severus.

“Well then, per the Potters’ Last Will and Testament, you should have been the one taking care of Harry this whole time.” Ms. Crilly – Severus refused to be on a first-name basis with the woman – glanced at the parchment. “Well, it would have been the Longbottoms at the beginning, but... Well, this does simplify things, doesn’t it?”

No, it really didn’t.

Beside Severus, Potter shifted in his chair. Severus didn’t need to look to know the boy had shrunk in on himself. And why shouldn’t he? Severus had no delusions of any love lost between the two of them. The boy couldn’t be thrilled to know Severus meant to take care of him.

The boy probably wanted Severus to decline the position, and part of Severus longed to do so. What did he know of raising a child? Oh, Severus taught children, but as a rule, he didn’t like his students and they didn’t like him. And Potter, well.

Severus had seen Potter come to school, as arrogant and attention seeking as his father, thinking himself above the rules. Snape had always suspected that Potter would prove as selfish and arrogant and spoiled as his father, but to see proof in every –

Severus cut off the thought. Yes, he’d spent the year thinking Potter the same as his father, the brat reveling in the attention and disparaging the adults by not showing the signs of respect that wizarding children of Potter’s station had drilled into them from their first wobbly steps.

But now Severus admitted to himself that his image of Potter needed altering. A month ago, Potter apologized to and thanked Severus (the boy had gone for entirely different reasons, but his father never would have thought to apologize at all). The boy had said this morning that he didn’t want the fame. And as for the arrogance Potter wore like a badge, if muggles had raised the boy then of course his manners wouldn’t match a wizarding child’s. What Snape had viewed as rudeness and arrogance distilled to ignorance.

Severus prided himself on his observation capabilities, but now he faced an uncomfortable question: was this boy his blind spot?

Severus knew nothing of raising a child, and they had never gotten along. The boy had no one else, though. If Severus declined the responsibility, the Ministry would throw Potter to the wolves as everyone tried to get their claws into the Boy-Who-Lived. And most of the other Death Eaters who’d avoided Azkaban were rich and powerful, exactly the type to receive custody of the Boy-Who-Lived if Severus refused. Severus had sworn to protect the boy, even if he’d never imagined fulfilling it like this. And Lilly had trusted Severus...

Severus nodded at Ms. Crilly. “What needs to be done to bring Mr. Potter into my care?”

The smile on Ms. Crilly’s face widened, sickeningly sweet. Definitely Hufflepuff.

“There are a few forms to sign, but after that, you have full custody,” Ms. Crilly said.

Beside Severus, the boy looked at Ms. Crilly with bewilderment.

“That’s it? I thought these kinda things were more complicated,” Potter – and Severus realized he’d need to start referring to the boy as _Harry_ – said.

“You’re thinking of the muggle world,” Severus said. “Our Ministry runs things differently, when it comes to matters like these.”

Ms. Crilly nodded. “Because of your parents’ Will, in the eyes of the law, Professor Snape is already your legal guardian. The papers are for his formal acceptance of the responsibilities, as well as authorization forms to file with Gringotts to grant him control of your funds until you come of age. To the extent that your parents’ Will stipulates, of course.”

Severus nodded and turned to Potter – Harry. Severus would make sure the b – dammit, Harry – didn’t squander what his parents had left him.

“Do you have the key to any vaults?”

 _Harry_ shook his head. “Hagrid never gave me the key after we visited Gringotts.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose. “And why were you at Gringotts with Hagrid, Mr. Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “He’s the one who picked me up from my aunt and uncle and took me to get me my school things in Diagon Alley last summer, when he gave me my letter.”

Severus frowned. “Professor McGonagall didn’t do your orientation?”

Harry shook his head.

Severus’ frown deepened. This had the ring of Albus’ meddling. Hagrid revered the Headmaster, and while a good man, Hagrid didn’t have the qualifications to introduce a child to the wizarding world. Why muddle Harry’s first exposure? Minerva had as much loyalty as Hagrid, didn’t she? A finger of dread curled in Severus’ mind.

Fury joined the dread. Albus had promised the boy would be cared for. And while Albus preferred to play the odd, harmless grandfather, Severus knew the Headmaster’s wits remained sharp as a sword. Dumbledore had placed the boy in Tuney’s care, and Severus didn’t for a moment believe Albus had decided to _not_ keep an eye on the boy. For some reason, Albus had kept Potter despite the abuse. But Albus had extracted Severus’s promise to protect Harry in the first place. Why do such a thing only to abandon Harry to his relatives?

Ice doused Severus' veins, but he took care that neither Harry or Ms. Crilly noticed. He hadn’t mastered Occlumency for nothing. Something didn’t add up, something involving Albus and Potter, but what Severus couldn’t determine.

Severus had believed in Albus since the day Severus had defected from the Dark Lord. Albus, in turn, had stood by Severus. If not for Albus, Severus would have ended up in Azkaban like sodding Black. Why, then, did Severus fear Albus’ intentions towards the boy?

Then there was that business with Black and Pettigrew...

Strengthening his Occlumency shields, Severus put the matter aside. It would have to be addressed at some point, but for now it only distracted him. Besides, even if Severus did nothing, the Ministry would now sniff around for how Potter had ended up in the care of muggles who weren’t in his parents’ Will.

Severus turned his attention back to Ms. Crilly and Harry, who had been discussing goblins and guardians and vault keys while Severus’s mind had whirled.

“Well, while we’re tracking down the key Mr. Hagrid has, the goblins should have a duplicate set of the keys you can pick up at Gringotts once we’ve filled out the proper forms,” Ms. Crilly said.

There came a knock at the door. Ms. Crilly stood.

“A moment, please. That should be the Healer,” she said.

She went to the door and opened it a crack, then stood back and opened the door for the person on the other side, beaming.

“So good to see you again, Alfie,” Ms. Crilly said.

A tall man – Alfie, apparently – stepped inside. He wore the lime-green robes of a Healer from St. Mungo’s and had receding blond hair along with an impressive beard. Were it not for the robes, the man could have passed for a bar bouncer, though his face had more wrinkles from smiling than what Severus presumed a normal bouncer had.

Beside Severus, Harry leaned away from the stranger. Irritation flickered through Severus at St. Mungo’s. Did they think it wise to send such a physically intimidating man to tend children coming out of abusive homes?

Ms. Crilly closed the door and the Healer turned to Severus and Potter. A smile, large and sincere, unfurled across the man’s face. Severus realized with some dread that this man was a smaller, blonder, better-dressed version of Hagrid.

Potter had relaxed only marginally at the Healer's smile.

“Hello gentlemen, I’m Healer Orlov, but please feel free to call me Alfie,” the could-be-bouncer said.

Under no circumstances did Severus plan on getting to a first-name basis with this man.

The large man extended his hand, to Severus first, who took it and made sure his grip was firm. Healer Orlov gave Severus a smile that Severus glowered back at before the Healer turned his attention to Potter. Orlov made his movements slower, holding his hand out for Harry to shake and radiating a gentleness as palpable as the menace Severus had cultivated. Potter extended his hand and they shook.

Orlov smiled at them before he put down the kit he’d carried in, transitioning into a more professional demeanor.

“Well then, I believe I’m here for a full diagnostic?” Healer Orlov asked.

Ms. Crilly nodded her head. “Not just current injuries. We need his full medical history.”

“Is there anyone else we need present?” Healer Orlov asked.

Ms. Crilly turned to Severus.

“Mr. Snape, as Mr. Potter’s legal guardian, is there anyone else you’d like as witness?” Ms. Crilly asked.

Healer Orlov raised a brow at Severus being declared Potter’s guardian. Severus ignored it and shook his head.

“This suffices. Proceed,” Severus said.

Healer Orlov nodded. He pulled out his wand and from his kit withdrew chalk and medical parchment, charmed to grow as long as necessary and first developed by an exasperated Healer who couldn’t bother grabbing more parchment when trying to do slightly important things like preventing a patient’s new spider-like limbs from attacking people. Medical parchment had caught on for legal and journalism work, but as it had originated in the medical field, the original name had stuck.

While Orlov rummaged in his kit, Ms. Crilly flipped a corner of the rug in front of her desk, leaving an exposed chunk of stone flooring. Orlov nodded his thanks absentmindedly to Ms. Crilly and got down on his hands and knees. He drew a ritual circle large enough for someone to stand in, his hand steady. He wrote in runes all along the inner edge of the circle.

Severus knew what ritual circle and runes were meant to be used for this kind of diagnostic – he’d had to study this both when achieving his Mastery and as a Head of House who often acted _in loco parentis_ for his Slytherins. He kept a sharp eye on the runes used, watchful for any trickery, but Orlov made no move to deviate from standard procedures.

Ritual circle finished, Healer Orlov gestured for Potter to step inside the circle. Potter glanced at Severus, who nodded. Potter stepped into the circle and looked at Orlov expectantly.

Orlov tapped the medical parchment with his wand and then tapped his wand to Potter’s forehead.

“Omnes medicinae historia,” Orlov incanted.

The circle glowed the same lime green as the Healer’s robes, and Potter himself glowed for a moment. The glow transferred from Potter to the medical parchment and words appeared on the parchment.

Severus had overseen six students’ diagnoses on suspicions of abuse during his tenure as Head of Slytherin when he’d received the position five years ago after the old Astronomy teacher retired. The Head of Slytherin performed this duty more than the other three Houses, unfortunately, but Slytherin embodied the necessary traits to survive abuse more than the other Houses. Thankfully, two of those proved false alarms, three had required minimal intervention, and the last had required the student’s removal from their home.

None of those students had produced a medical parchment as long as Potter’s.

The tension in the three adults coiled tighter with each inch the parchment grew. The three of them each willed it to end, but the parchment refused to comply. Severus’ fingers gripped the arms of his chair so he wouldn’t apparate out and wrap his fingers around Petunia’s bony neck. Crilly’s expression reflected the sentiment. Healer Orlov, however, looked like someone had kicked his kneazle.

Potter had no point of reference, but he could feel the tension radiating throughout the room. He hugged himself, glancing between the adults with brows furrowed. Severus read the wary caution written in every tensed muscle of the child’s body.

At last, the glow of the ritual circle faded and the medical parchment stopped recording new injuries. Severus stood from the chair, glaring at the parchment. It looked roughly two and a half feet long. Healer Orlov read through it, heartbroken expression gone from his face and a professional mask in place.

Severus set aside the parchment from his immediate attention. It could wait. Potter, meanwhile, looked ready to fly apart at a stern glance. This version of Potter squelched against Severus’ mind. Potter was meant to be loud, cocky, brash. The Potter in the ritual circle was silent, withdrawn, trembling.

Severus put his hand on Potter’s shoulder, who startled. Severus kept his grip firm – not wanting to bruise the boy but not wanting Potter to dash off into the bowels of the Ministry either. Merlin knew what kind of trouble the boy would run across.

“No one is angry with you, Potter,” Snape murmured.

The other two were too close not to hear, but it didn’t stop Severus from trying anyways. Cor, what had come of the world when he was being _reassuring_?

Potter looked up at Severus with eyes the size of lanterns, Lilly’s eyes, lit with an unnatural glow. Severus' breath wisped away and he tried to not let the pain that bloomed show on his face. He tore his eyes from Potter’s and turned towards Crilly and Orlov.

Severus gestured, his demand for the parchment implied enough that Orlov passed it over without protest. With a smart flick of his wrist, Severus smoothed the paper out to read.

The parchment arranged itself chronologically. The first year and a half of Potter’s life contained no illnesses or injuries of note. Then the entries became more frequent and alarming, starting with the _15 months – Received scar from Dark Curse_.

What followed the bland notation of the single known instance of someone surviving the Killing Curse was an abysmal window into Potter’s childhood. Pneumonia, broken bones, splintered bones, a myriad of illnesses, concussions, bruises, impending organ failure, and severe malnutrition danced across the years of Potter's childhood. In two and a half feet of parchment lay a total lack of care, compassion, or attention.

The parchment began smoking around the corners and Severus forced his gaze away, shoving the parchment at Crilly.

She took it with a grim expression.

“I can make a copy for your records, Mr. Snape. If you’d like a copy forwarded to Hogwarts, I can arrange that. I'll keep the original for our records and St. Mungo’s receives a copy as well,” Ms. Crilly said.

“Send my copy to my solicitor, Timothy Norton,” Severus said. He hesitated. “Don’t worry about sending a copy to Hogwarts. I can give a copy of my own to Poppy in person.”

Ms. Crilly smiled. “It’s certainly useful, you being a member of Hogwarts’ staff.”

Severus made a noncommittal hum. He turned towards Orlov, not wanting to contemplate nor discuss what his role as Potter’s guardian meant for his relationship with Hogwarts.

“Healer Orlov, when will a Potions regiment be ready for Mr. Potter?” Severus asked.

Orlov examined the parchment.

“It will take me a day or two to sort this out and come up with the right regimen,” Healer Orlov said.

“When you do, I will prepare the potions myself,” Severus said.

Orlov raised his head up towards Severus, momentarily surprised before a smile spread over his face. He gave a chuckle.

“I forgot you had a Potions Mastery. I’m not used to parents and guardians being able to brew their child’s regiment,” Orlov said.

He smiled at Severus like they were sharing a private joke, all broad smiles and flashing teeth. Severus glared at the man. The Healer had the audacity to keep smiling. If anything, he appeared more amused by Severus’ glaring.

“Well Alfie, I have some paperwork for you and then you can head back to Mungo’s,” Ms. Crilly said.

The pair fussed out their paperwork, Severus keeping one eye on them and one eye on Potter. When Healer Orlov finished and stood to leave, the two men shook hands.

“I’ll owl you the potions regiment once I have it drawn up. Let me know if there’s any points you’d like to discuss in person,” Healer Orlov said.

“I will,” Severus lied.

Healer Orlov extended a hand to Potter, who took it with a tentative smile.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter, though I wish it were under happier circumstances,” Healer Orlov said. “If there’s anything you ever need, let me know.”

Potter nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Orlov laughed. “Call me Alfie. ‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

“Alfie, then,” Potter said, his smile coming easier this time.

Healer Orlov waved to the group before letting himself out. Severus watched him leave, making sure no one tried peeking into the room. It’d be the fastest way for a rumor to spread of Potter being in Family Services. Thankfully, no one lurked outside the door.

With the Healer gone, the three remaining reclaimed their seats around the desk. Ms. Crilly took a minute to shuffle through her papers and reorient herself with where they were in the process.

“Well, before Alfie arrived, I thought we needed more memories as testimony. With these medical records, however, I don’t believe we need to do any more replications,” Ms. Crilly said. “Shall we say we’re done with that for the day?”

Potter’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“That’d be great,” the boy said.

Crilly smiled at Potter. “Yeah, those are never fun. I believe at this point we can finish for today after some paperwork. I’m sure you two have plenty to do once you leave.”

Severus nodded his head. “We’ll need to pick up a few things for Mr. Potter if he’s staying with me on a permanent basis.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Severus’s head went from spinning at Albus’s machinations and Potter’s medical parchment to spinning over the myriad of things one needed to raise a child. Had someone written a list? A sense of ineptitude engulfed Severus, unpleasant and foreign.

The boy needed clothes, obviously. And with him moving into Spinner’s End, they’d need a few things for the spare bedroom, which suddenly wasn’t a spare.

Severus forced his mind to halt. Clothing was an immediate need. Severus already had food and a roof to shelter him under. Severus had the rest of the summer to piece together what else Po – _Harry_ needed.

For the next half hour, Ms. Crilly handed Severus forms to sign. Severus read everything. Old caution refused to let him get ensnared by giving his signature away blindly. Ms. Crilly kept Potter entertained by discussing her years at Hogwarts with the boy.

As Severus signed the last form, Ms. Crilly gave Severus and Harry another of her annoyingly Hufflepuffish smiles.

“Congratulations, gentlemen,” she said, coming around her desk to shake both of their hands.

Severus nodded, shaking her hand.

“Thank you,” he said, so she wouldn’t realize that in a few hours she’d upended his life and left him adrift with no idea of how to return to familiarity. Also, she was one of _those_ Hufflepuffs, and thus Severus best not set off any emotional displays. Merlin.

Harry also shook Ms. Crilly’s hand, though Severus saw the boy felt uncomfortable.

They’d need to talk soon, set expectations and possibly – with the aid of a minor miracle – clear the air between them. Severus hoped he hadn’t just signed up for several years of aggravation and headaches. He couldn’t take back his signature, though, and he wouldn’t fail Lilly. Not again. Even if that meant dragging Potter into a civilization kicking and screaming.

Ms. Crilly handed Severus the forms for the goblins.

“Give this to them, and it should sort everything out,” Ms. Crilly said. She placed another envelope on top of the paperwork she’d given Severus. Ink spelled out _Severus_ written in Lilly’s hand. “This was in the Will. I cast an authenticity spell on it and recorded its existence so that I could give it to you immediately.”

Severus stared at the envelope before pocketing the letter.

“Thank you for your assistance today,” Severus said.

Ms. Crilly laughed.

“I’m happy to help. It’s happy endings like these that made me want to do this in the first place,” Ms. Crilly said.

Severus doubted either he or Harry were happy, per se, but he recognized this was the best outcome possible for the boy. Severus would protect the boy to the best of his considerable ability.

“May I have a copy of the Will?” Severus asked. “I’d like to inspect it and make sure there isn’t anything else that needs to be rectified for Mr. Potter immediately, if no one’s read the Will yet.”

Ms. Crilly picked up the Will off her desk and frowned.

“I don’t know the spell needed to duplicate Wills. They have charms on them for legal purposes to prevent anyone treating them willy-nilly. I’ll send a memo to Legal. I apologize, but usually by the time I see a Will, the relevant parties have received their copies,” Ms. Crilly said.

“Have it sent to my solicitor, Timothy Norton. I want Potter’s medical records sent there as well,” Severus said.

Ms. Crilly nodded and jotted the note. Severus watched as she enchanted the memo and sent it off.

“Have a good day,” Severus said, bowing to Ms. Crilly before leading Harry out.

Severus led Harry back into the reception area. The receptionist looked up, smiling, before his smile faltered as he stared at Harry. Severus realized Harry’d never readjusted his hat to hide the scar. Severus swore internally.

Severus held out a hand to stop the boy. “Lower your hat, Mr. Potter.”

The boy scrambled and tugged on the brim, covering the scar. Severus inspected him before nodding. He glared at the receptionist, daring the man to spread rumors. The receptionist looked down, feigning ignorance. Severus narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if that was surrender or misdirection.

Reluctantly, Severus led Harry away, heading back to the Ministry’s main lobby without confronting the receptionist. In the lobby, Harry started towards where they’d entered earlier, but Severus steered the boy towards the fireplaces by the boy’s shoulder.

They stopped in front of the fireplaces and the stands next to each fireplace holding a pot of Floo powder. The boy turned to Severus with confusion. Ah. Of course. He’d never traveled by Floo.

Severus pulled Harry to the side of the line and motioned for the witch behind them to proceed. He had Harry watch the woman as he explained.

“Take a handful and step into the fireplace. When you throw it down, you need to enunciate your destination clearly. You’ll come out at the correct fireplace. We’re going to Diagon Alley,” Severus said.

The witch winked at Harry and disappeared in emerald flames. Severus made Harry pronounce the destination a few times. He had to correct the boy’s pronunciation a little to meet with the Floo system’s standards, making him grateful he’d pulled the boy aside. At this point, Severus didn’t know if he should be exasperated with Potter or Petunia that Potter couldn’t speak clearly.

Once Severus approved, he guided himself and Harry back into the queue. The wizard waiting at the front of the queue let them cut, having seen Severus working with Harry’s pronunciation. Severus gave the man a nod before motioning Harry ahead.

He waited until Harry had gone through before stepping forward to follow. He took a deep breath as he grabbed the Floo powder, following his charge through the fireplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know anything about how the legal system actually works and what's needed to gain custody of a child? Not really. It's definitely not what was in this chapter. But does the wizarding world ever make sense about things like this? Nope. Sadly, I could actually see this happening in the cannon world (maybe not for Harry, since people go a little rabid over him, but for any other orphan).
> 
> Also, can we take a moment to snicker at Severus? He thought he was going to foist Harry off on someone else today.


	5. Getting Started

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, tripping over his feet and catching himself right before faceplanting. His hat fell off and he grabbed it and squashed it back onto his head. He glanced around, sighing with relief when he saw no one staring.

Green light flashed behind Harry and he turned to see Snape emerge from the fireplace, dusting off soot. Snape inspected Harry before pulling his wand out and flicking it. The soot on Harry’s robes disappeared, and Harry managed to not flinch. Snape nodded with satisfaction.

Harry looked down at his shoes so he wouldn’t have to meet Snape’s eye. He still couldn’t comprehend that this man was his new guardian. Harry, living with Professor Snape? Had Harry hit his head? How should he behave now?

Snape’s eyes flickered about the room. A few people had turned now, but they were staring at Snape instead of Harry.

“Follow me,” Snape said, his robes sweeping behind him.

Harry hurried in Snape’s wake, appreciating the way people scrambled out of the professor’s way. It differed vastly from when Harry visited with Hagrid. Guilt jabbed at Harry for thinking that, but no one had left Harry alone when he’d come with the groundskeeper.

The pair headed into Diagon Alley proper without any fuss from the other shoppers. Like an echo of Harry’s original trip, Snape led Harry to Gringotts first. They stood in the queue without talking. Not many people were in the bank, so before long Snape and Harry approached the goblin behind the counter. With surprise, Harry saw the same goblin from his visit with Hagrid behind the counter.

“Good morning,” Snape said.

Snape glanced in Harry’s direction when Harry didn't say anything. Harry flushed as he realized he was being rude and embarrassing his new guardian.

“Good morning, Mr. Griphook,” Harry said.

Both Snape and the goblin looked at Harry askance. Harry hid his worry at their reaction. What had he said wrong?

The goblin blinked before turning his attention to Snape.

“What is your business today?” Griphook asked.

Snape placed the paperwork from Em on the counter. “This should give a general idea. We can discuss the particulars in private.”

Griphook examined the paperwork. He glanced up between Snape and Harry before laying the papers back down.

“Very well,” he said. He motioned another goblin over. “Take them to Rookfang.”

The other goblin nodded curtly, taking the paperwork from Griphook, and let Snape and Harry behind the counter. They followed their guide to an office, _Rookfang_ plated on the door. The goblin knocked four times and opened the door without waiting for a response. Inside, another goblin sat behind a massive desk.

Their guide passed over the papers and left while Rookfang inspected them. The door shut with a soft _click_.

Snape sat without waiting for an invitation. After hesitating, Harry followed suit. Silence fell over the room as Rookfang continued examining the paperwork. Snape leaned back and waited. He seemed content with the silence, so Harry mirrored him and tried to relax as much as possible.

Finally, Rookfang put the paperwork down.

“It seems to be in order.” Rookfang pulled open a drawer and drew out another stack of papers. “Per the Potter’s Will, the main Potter vault is off-limits for withdrawals until Mr. Potter comes of age. If he wishes to look through it before then, however, that is allowed. Until Mr. Potter comes of age, he is only allowed to withdraw from his trust vaults.”

Snape raised a brow. “He has more than one?”

“He has two. One for school expenses, and one meant for his general raising. Both remained untouched until last year, when Mr. Potter withdrew from his school trust,” Rookfang said.

Snape hummed in acknowledgement, an odd expression crossing his face. Harry squirmed, realizing that the vault he’d seen last year was only part of his money. The idea of being even richer settled over Harry like Dudley’s hand-me-downs, awkward and ill-fitting.

“Do you have copies of the vault keys? Mr. Potter never received either key from Albus Dumbledore or Rubeus Hagrid,” Snape said.

The goblin gave a nasty grin.

“We can supply new keys for a fee. After verifying your identity, of course,” Rookfang said.

Snape inclined his head. “Of course.”

Rookfang pulled out a thick piece of parchment and a silver knife. He wrote out a few runes on the top of the parchment before extending both towards the humans. Snape took the knife, pricking his finger and letting a few drops fall onto the parchment. Harry leaned forward in fascination as the blood rearranged into words.

_Severus Tobias Snape-Prince_

_Head of House Prince_

_Potions Master and Professor of Hogwarts_

_Harry James Potter’s Guardian_

Harry tilted his head. He’d never heard anyone refer to Snape as _Prince_ before.

Snape spelled the knife clean.

“Just a few drops, Potter.”

Harry took the knife and pricked his finger, letting the drops fall below Snape’s.

_Harry James Potter_

_Heir of House Potter_

_Student of Hogwarts_

_Severus Tobias Snape-Prince’s Ward_

“Neither of you are lying about your identities.” Rookfang looked disappointed.

“Indeed,” Snape said. “Owl Mr. Potter’s bank statements to my solicitor, and I will pay the fees for acquiring new keys to the vaults. Is there anything else needed to settle our business today?”

“No. We will owl when we’ve finished filing the paperwork and have the keys ready,” Rookfang said.

“Very good,” Snape said, standing and inclining his head to the goblin. “Have a good day.”

Harry couldn’t tell if Rookfang smiled or grimaced, but his expression must have satisfied Snape, as he swept from the room without comment. Harry scrambled after him, calling a goodbye over his shoulder. Their goblin guide awaited outside the door.

“Are you seeing any vaults today?” the goblin asked.

Snape shook his head. “I have the money we need for the day.”

The goblin grunted and led them back to the bank lobby. As they left, Harry thanked the goblin for his help. The goblin looked surprised, which Harry found rather sad.

Harry followed Snape down Diagon Alley, trailing after his professor and soaking in the sights. Snape seemed ready to go into a shop called Twilfitt and Tatting’s, but he glanced back at Harry and walked past the shop. Instead, Snape kept walking until they arrived at Madam Malkin’s, where he held the door open and gestured inside.

Madam Malkin came up to them with a smile.

“Professor Snape, what a surprise. How can I help you?” she asked.

Snape gestured at Harry. “He needs a new wardrobe.”

“Does that include school robes?” Madam Malkin asked, looking Harry up and down.

Harry fiddled with his sleeve and glanced at Snape, who nodded to Madam Malkin. She smiled and dragged Harry further into the shop, tutting over his slight frame and muttering about colors he should wear. It went over Harry’s head, but she didn’t seem to expect much from him except to move when told, so Harry allowed his attention to drift.

Snape stood in the background, between Harry and the rest of the store, but far enough away that he didn’t have to participate. Occasionally, Madam Malkin asked a question about how many shirts they wanted or what shade of blue Harry preferred. The first few times she asked something, Harry threw pleading glances at Snape for help but Snape made no efforts to come to Harry’s rescue. The few times Snape did speak was to negate a choice Harry had made, saying Harry needed to appear respectable, not like a half-witted street urchin. With that illustrious assistance, Harry muddled along answering Madam Malkin as best he could.

It took about an hour and a half, but finally Madam Malkin was satisfied with Harry’s new wardrobe. She led them to the front and wrung them up. Harry eyed the money Snape handed over.

“I can pay,” Harry murmured while Madam Malkin boxed everything.

Snape raised a single eyebrow. Harry flushed and shrugged, kicking at the ground. They didn’t say anything more as Madam Malkin gave Snape the packages, which he shrunk and stowed into his pocket.

Snape didn’t speak as he led Harry out of Diagon Alley to the little courtyard that concealed the entrance between the alley and the Leaky Cauldron. He held an arm out to Harry, who grimaced but took it before Snape apparated them back to Cokeworth.

Snape led Harry to Spinner’s End, holding the door open. Harry paused, taking in the shabby little house, realizing that he lived here now. He glanced once at Snape, who tapped a finger against the door. Harry darted inside.

Snape followed and took the packages from his pockets, enlarging them to their original size. He handed them to Harry.

“Put these upstairs in the wardrobe. We’ll get you new furniture another day,” Snape said.

Harry’s eyes widened. New furniture? Snape had already gotten Harry clothes – he’d even paid, when Harry had enough gold to pay himself. There wasn’t even anything wrong with the spare room at Spinner’s End. Dazed, Harry went upstairs and put away his new clothes.

When finished, Harry looked around the room he’d live in now. He ran his hand over the bed cover and smiled. Fairies still fluttered about in his stomach, but he thought this would be an improvement over the Dursleys.

Shaking himself, Harry left the spare – his? – bedroom and made his way downstairs. Harry didn’t see Snape in the living room, so he let himself through the other hidden door. He found Snape out in the garden, talking with Flootsy, who perked up when she caught sight of Harry.

“Flootsy is pleased Mr. Harry is staying at Spinner’s End,” Flootsy said.

Harry smiled. “Thanks, Flootsy.”

Harry and Snape glanced at each other, both struck by their situation now that they were back at Spinner’s End. Harry wondered if their unspoken truce would last, or if they would end up trying to murder each other by sunset.

Snape cleared his throat.

“Well then, Mr. Potter, it appears we need to review what chores you’re responsible for, as well as a few other pressing matters,” Snape said.

Flootsy snorted and stomped her foot.

“No, no, Master Severus Snape. You celebrate today. Go over chores tomorrow,” Flootsy said.

Snape leveled a glare at the house-elf, who in return crossed her arms. The pair glared at each other.

“We have time enough today to discuss next steps,” Snape said.

From Footsie’s face, Snape may as well have spoken to a rock for all she cared what he said.

“These things can wait until tomorrow after celebrating today,” Flootsy said. “You two has not eaten lunch yet. Flootsy will cook the rest of the day, so Master can celebrate Mr. Harry becoming part of the household. Master and Mr. Harry will celebrate today.”

“We can celebrate after discussing a few matters,” Snape said. “I’ll keep it short today and stop when you have lunch prepared.”

Flootsy tapped her foot, debating Snape’s proposal.

“Lunch is soup and toast. It won’t take long to heat,” Flootsy said, giving Snape a suspicious look.

Snape inclined his head to her. “We’ll skim over the most pressing matters.”

Flootsy narrowed her eyes, but after a few heartbeats, nodded her reluctant consent.

“You two will discuss while Flootsy makes lunch. After lunch, Harry will unpack, and then you will celebrate,” Flootsy said, her tone final.

“Very well, those terms are acceptable,” Snape said. “Come, Potter, we will talk in the living room and leave Flootsy undisturbed.”

Harry followed Snape out of the kitchen shell-shocked. Had Flootsy really just argued with Snape and survived, let alone won?! He wondered if she gave lessons.

In the living room, Snape claimed an armchair and motioned for Harry to take the seat opposite his. Harry did as bid and the pair proceeded to stare at each other.

“It appears that we will assign you chores after all,” Snape said.

Harry knew that Snape was floundering as much as Harry to make sense of the situation if the Potions Master was repeating something he’d said not even five minutes ago. Everyone at Hogwarts knew Snape didn’t repeat himself, to many students chagrin.

Harry licked his lips nervously.

“I can do most any chores, sir. My aunt made sure of it,” Harry said.

Snape’s lips curled back in a sneer.

“Oh, I’m sure she did, the lazy b– shrew. I doubt the workload she gave you resembled anything a sane person would call reasonable. You shall be responsible for your own bedroom, your own dishes, and some light cleaning in the kitchen area,” Snape said. “Outside your room, I expect you to tidy anything of yours lying about. Do not fear, Mr. Potter. Unlike your aunt, I am a reasonable person.”

Harry did not snort, laugh, roll his eyes, scoff, or otherwise display his opinion. It took herculean effort.

“We can adjust the chores later as needed to arrive at an appropriate workload,” Snape said.

Harry nodded, then remembered that Snape preferred verbal responses when he noticed Snape’s souring expression.

“Yessir,” Harry said, remembering the lessons he’d learned at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s hands.

“Aside from chores, if I am to be your guardian, there are a few other matters that I’ll have to look into tutoring for over the summer,” Snape said. “Did you receive any instruction as a child on etiquette, wizarding law, or your duties as the future Head of the House of Potter?”

Harry’s brain stopped.

“ – the House of Potter? And I’m the Head?” Harry asked, gaping.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will take that as affirmation of my fears that you haven’t received any of the education you should have received before coming to Hogwarts.”

Harry hunched his shoulders and fought a scowl. Snape didn’t have to ridicule Harry’s intelligence.

“I went to school before Hogwarts. I can do maths and read and I know science and –”

“Not that kind of schooling, Potter, and wipe that look from your face,” Snape said. “You are the Heir to the Noble House of Potter and will become the Head once you reach your majority at seventeen. As the Heir, you should have been taught about your duties and what you need to know to enter society without shaming your family’s name.”

This brought Harry up short. He didn’t know much about the wizarding part of Britain or anything about Heirs and Heads of Houses, but the thought of shaming his parents made him nauseous.

Harry tugged on his hair.

“What are we supposed to do about it, then, if no one ever taught me what I was supposed to be learning?” Harry asked.

“I will look into getting you a tutor. It will mean your summers for the next few years won’t be relaxing, but we have lost time to make up for,” Snape said

Harry sagged at the prospect but didn’t complain.

Before more could be said, Flootsy popped into the room.

“Lunch can’t possibly be ready. We’ve barely had enough time to speak,” Snape said before Flootsy had a chance to speak.

Flootsy shrugged. “All Flootsy had to do was heat the broth and pops the toast. Neither takes long.”

Snape sighed.

“Very well. There shouldn’t be anything pressing to take care of today that can’t wait for tomorrow.”

Flootsy grinned before apparating from the room. Snape led Harry back to the kitchen, were the two places at the table were set for lunch. They sat down at the table, neither speaking throughout lunch. Neither would have been inclined to speak to each other under normal circumstances, and now the reality that they’d be stuck with each other hung in the air between them.

After they’d finished eating, Flootsy reappeared from wherever she’d gone earlier, clapping her hands.

“Now you is ready to celebrate!” She said.

Snape nodded slowly, like celebrating was a foreign concept or he didn’t believe a celebration in order but had to because of his earlier agreement with her.

Snape turned to Harry, looking as though he had to swallow something Neville had brewed.

“Mr. Potter, is there a preferred activity you would like for the day?” Snape asked.

Harry shifted, trying to think of what people did for celebrations. He couldn’t think of something to do here, but the idea of going out made his fingers tingle.

“Err, is there anything you’d prefer?” Harry asked.

Snape and Harry stared at each other uncomfortably, neither knowing what to say, long enough for Flootsy to roll her eyes.

“Is there anyone you want to invite over for a celebration? Or do you want to celebrate alone?” Flootsy asked.

Snape pursed his lips. “I believe that Potter and I need a bit of time before we tell anyone of what has happened.”

Harry nodded, not wanting to face a crowd or answer curious questions.

“It still feels unreal,” Harry agreed.

“Yes, it does. We can go over rules tomorrow. For now... perhaps it would be best to give Harry time to unpack his things in his bedroom,” Snape said.

Harry’s head jerked towards Snape from where he’d been studying a cloud and pretending the whole situation didn’t make him uncomfortable. Snape met his gaze, raising an eyebrow at Harry’s reaction. The Potions Master had called it _Harry’s_ room, without fuss. At the Dursleys, even after moving out of the cupboard, everyone had referred to the room Harry stayed in as Dudley’s spare. Even Harry. The Dursleys had kept Harry there; it had never been his. And now, Snape relinquished the room to Harry without issue.

Harry swallowed, forcing down the burning sensation in the corner of his eyes.

“I’d... I’d appreciate that,” Harry said.

Snape studied Harry but didn’t comment. He pulled Harry’s trunk out, which he’d shrunken and put in his pocket before they’d left for the Ministry, bringing it back to its regular size.

“Flootsy, would you send this to Potter’s room?” Snape asked.

Flootsy snapped her fingers and the trunk disappeared. Then, Flootsy put her hands on her hips.

“Flootsy will make dinner tonight. Master won’t cook on such a special day. Mr. Harry Potter will unpack, then you two will do something together. Does Harry like making potions?” Flootsy asked.

Harry flushed, chancing a glance towards Snape, who had raised his eyes heavenward.

“Err... it’s not my best subject,” Harry said.

Flootsy chuckled. “Then do you both want to work out in the garden once Harry has unpacked? Flootsy knows Master likes it.”

Both Snape and Harry eyed each other before Harry shrugged.

“I think I’d enjoy it,” Harry said.

He even meant it. He hated Aunt Petunia’s garden, but during the school year had discovered he enjoyed gardening itself, even if he never compared to Neville. He found himself surprisingly eager to discover what Snape grew in his garden.

“Flootsy, Harry can’t eat regular food yet. We’re still on a diet of toast and a thin broth soup,” Snape said.

Flootsy nodded. “Flootsy will take care of it. A fancy dinner can come later, but Master won’t cook tonight.”

Flootsy waived Harry away at that point, likely sensing the awkwardness permeating the air and not wanting to grant either Harry or Snape time to make things unpleasant. Harry scarpered upstairs, staring at everything he passed with the wonder of realizing that this place was now – what? The place he lived? That’s all the Dursley residence had been. Harry knew that for most people, the house they lived in was home, but he wasn’t sure if that applied to him. Did Snape want him to think of the place like that?

Harry opened the door to _his_ bedroom. Depressed grays still predominated the room and the furniture belonged in a dump, but the room possessed a new vibrancy. Harry went over to his trunk and studied the room’s storage. How much Snape would allow Harry to unpack?

Harry decided he could safely take out his summer assignments. As a teacher, Snape would want Harry to excel in school. It relieved Harry, who’d thought he’d have to cram his assignments on the train back to Hogwarts. He was no Hermione, but the thought had grated.

Harry put his schoolbooks on the bookcase in his room. That done, he pulled his clothes out. Snape had gotten him new clothes, including school robes. Harry didn’t know what to do with his old clothes. His school robes were still serviceable, though Harry had noticed at the end of the year that his ankles poked out below the hem. He wondered if the wizarding world had second-hand shops. Harry would ask Snape what to do with his old robes.

As for Dudley’s old clothes...

No one would willingly wear them unless Snape transfigured them into something nicer. Harry would have to ask about that too. If left up to Harry, he’d rather burn them.

There were a few bits and bobbles Harry had collected over the school year and he chose a few to put on his desk. His photo album from Hagrid took pride of place, Harry stroking the cover and admiring the picture on the front.

When he saw his dad’s cloak, however, he glanced at the door. He doubted Snape would let Harry keep the cloak if he knew about it. Harry couldn’t lose it. It was all he had of his dad’s. The photo album didn’t count; those pictures had belonged to other people, not his parents. Harry hid the cloak at the bottom of the trunk.

All in all, it took Harry only a half hour to unpack his trunk.

Harry went downstairs to find Snape seated in the living room in the brown and green armchair. Snape had a book on his lap, but as Harry came into the room and Snape closed the book, Harry caught sight of a letter between the pages. Harry suspected it was the letter Em had given Snape in her office. Harry considered asking but decided not to tempt Snape to murder him.

“What should I do with my old clothes... sir?” Harry said.

Snape blinked once at the tacked-on formality before frowning.

“Those clothes, if they’re like what you came down in this morning, aren’t suitable for donation to the meanest of charities. They’re only fit for burning, at this point,” Snape said.

Harry’s face lit up.

“We can burn them?”

Snape paused.

“I hadn’t meant it literally. I suppose I don’t have anything against doing so, except I do not believe there is a suitable place here to burn them,” Snape said. He eyed Harry as Harry’s face fell. Snape sighed. “Though, I suppose most festivities do include a fire at some point. We won’t use the kitchen, since I’d worry what those fumes would do to food prepared after.”

Harry held his breath for Snape’s final pronouncement.

“Flootsy?”

A moment passed and then the house-elf appeared in the room.

“Flootsy, can you think of somewhere at Spinner’s End for a fire besides the kitchen?” Snape asked.

Flootsy considered before she shook her head.

“There’s nowhere here for a fire,” Flootsy said, “but Master Snape’s other properties should all have somewhere.”

Harry looked at Snape curiously. _Other_ properties?

Snape tilted his head, considering.

“After dinner, we will go through the Floo to the Cabin. I’m sure there’s somewhere in the woods to burn a fire,” Snape said. “Harry, put the clothes on your bed. Flootsy will make sure they arrive at the Cabin before we do.”

Harry nodded and ran upstairs, making sure nothing but Dudley’s old clothes were on the bed. When he finished, he traipsed back downstairs. The book that had been on Snape’s lap had disappeared, the letter with it. Snape’s elbows rested on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled as he watched Harry come into the room. Harry froze on the last step.

“... sir?”

Some emotion passed over Snape’s face, but Harry couldn’t identify it.

“Are you finished unpacking?”

After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded. “I don’t own much.”

Snape’s lips pursed. “I’d noticed.”

Snape shook his head and motioned at the rickety couch. Harry took the last step into the room and sat on the couch. He looked at Snape expectantly.

“Per Flootsy’s orders, we are to go out to the garden.” A touch of dry humor laced Snape’s voice at their being bossed around by the diminutive creature. “However, before doing so, there are a few things we should square away.”

Harry gulped. This did not sound like a fun conversation. He nodded anyways.

Snape cleared his throat, and Harry realized that Snape felt as off-kilter as Harry.

“Given the revelations of the day, the nature of our relationship has changed. While we are still teacher and student, the parameters for that relationship will not carry over well to our personal lives,” Snape said.

Harry gave an unsure nod when Snape paused. Snape suppressed a sigh.

“How would you like me to address you outside Hogwarts? While at school, I expect us to refer to each other as _Mr. Potter_ and _Professor Snape_. I would wager, however, that you do not wish to be _Mr. Potter_ during summer?”

Harry nodded at Snape’s inquiringly raised eyebrow.

“Harry is fine over summer, err, sir,” Harry said.

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated.

“Are there any terms you’d rather I avoided?” At Harry’s uncertain look, Snape added, “I would guess that you would rather I not call you _boy_?”

Harry flinched, hating himself as soon as he had. He gave a curt nod. Snape inclined his head and didn’t comment further.

Snape grimaced. “I am not acting in the capacity of your professor during the summer, so we will have to settle on something else for you to address me as.”

Harry considered it. “My mums’ letter called you Severus, right?”

Snape’s eye twitched.

“I have never approved of youths referring to their elders in such a familiar manner.”

Harry shook his head.

“No, that would be weird. Sir. I thought, though, since you were friends with Mum...” Harry gathered his courage. “Perhaps I should call you Uncle Severus?”

Snape frowned at that, but nodded after consideration. “That would be best. The English language is limited in possible alternatives for this kind of scenario. _Uncle Severus_ will have to do.”

Harry studied the floor. Snape hadn’t sounded particularly pleased.

“If it bothers you, I can call you something else,” Harry offered.

Snape sighed.

“I hadn’t meant to insinuate as such. Outside of Hogwarts, I am your guardian first and your professor second. It would be inconsiderate to ask you to act otherwise. We’ll have to have several such conversations before summer is over so that I can determine how best to serve as your guardian,” Snape said. “I know we have not had the best relationship. On my part, I will move us towards reconciliation.”

Harry thought of the Dursleys and all the teachers he’d had before Hogwarts. The teachers at Hogwarts, who while nice, hadn’t listened to him when he’d tried to tell them about his concerns – even if in the end, his concerns had been over the wrong person.

“It would be nice, to get along with an adult,” Harry said.

He hadn’t meant to make his voice wistful. Uncle Severus studied him a moment more before standing.

“Well then, now that we know what to call one another, is there anything else to discuss before gardening?” Uncle Severus asked.

Harry shook his head.

“Excellent.” Snape eyed the transfigured clothes Harry still wore and waived his wand at Harry. Harry’s clothes transformed from the kind of thing Draco would wear to work clothes.

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling brightly. Magic was awesome.

Uncle Severus inclined his head and led the way to the garden. Harry followed close behind, eager to get outside.

Flootsy waited for them out in the garden, a pair of gloves in each hand that she held out to them. Uncle Severus took his and glanced around the garden, assessing the work. Harry took his gloves with a tilt of his head.

“Are we working with something from Herbology?” Harry asked.

“Flootsy wants you both to help with the vegetables today,” Flootsy said.

“Oh,” Harry said with a confused look at his gloves, “do we really need the gloves, then?”

Uncle Severus raised an eyebrow. “Gardening gloves are typically used with any gardening, not just the magical kind.”

Harry absorbed that fact, looking at his gloves with a frown. So, the Dursleys had deprived him of yet another basic decency.

Uncle Severus must have kenned Harry’s train of thought, as he waved Flootsy away and motioned for Harry to follow. Along the back wall of the garden, a bed of vegetables nestled amongst the potion ingredients. Uncle Severus knelt by the carrots and started weeding. Harry did the same by the tomatoes.

Uncle Severus let the gardening take over for a few minutes before breaching their earlier subject.

“Did your aunt never provide gloves?”

Harry stiffened, freezing partway through pulling a weed. He scowled and finished pulling the weed out, throwing it aside harder than necessary.

“Does it matter?” Harry snapped.

He winced as soon as the words came out. That tone always got him backhanded and now Snape would –

“Yes. Harry, I want you to remember this: the way people treat you always matters,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry didn’t know how to respond, so he decided to play it safe and keep his mouth shut, pulling another weed.

Uncle Severus didn’t seem bothered by Harry’s lack of participation.

“There are acceptable parameters within which people can treat us. Your relatives were not within those, and thus, if you can recall any interaction you’ve had with them, remember this: you were not at fault. They were adults and therefore responsible for their own actions. Remember that, Harry,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry thought about what Snape had said.

“Then why did they do it?” Harry asked, his voice smaller than intended.

Uncle Severus didn’t respond right away.

“As a child, Petunia envied your mother’s magic,” Uncle Severus said. “Lilly was already more popular at the local school, and Petunia felt she didn’t measure up. After Petunia learned Lilly was a witch, the gap must have appeared even larger. Your grandparents loved both their daughters, but Petunia always believed they loved Lilly more. Petunia learned to hate magic. After, she went and married a man who shared that hatred, though I can’t fathom where his hatred came from unless he also had a muggleborn sibling or was a squib.”

“What’s a squib?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Uncle Severus glared a moment at the interruption, making Harry tense, but the moment passed without Snape lashing out.

“Do not interrupt. However, a squib is a non-magical child born to magical parents,” Uncle Severus said. “As I said, I can’t say that’s why your uncle hates magic. Either way, your aunt and uncle both hated magic before you were born. Then, a dunderhead put them in charge of a magical child. You didn’t do anything, Harry, that made them treat you as they did. They would have treated any magical child like that.”

They were silent again, the rhythms of gardening soothing Harry even as his mind worked through what Uncle Severus had said.

“Then why didn’t anyone help me? Why’d Dumbledore send me back when I asked to not go back to the Dursleys?” Harry asked.

Uncle Severus didn’t reply right away, and enough time passed that Harry glanced over. Uncle Severus’s mouth tapered in a tight line, but he relaxed it as Harry turned his head. Uncle Severus let out an exasperated huff of breath.

“To that, I couldn’t say. However, I know it doesn’t change anything. Even though no one intervened, the blame did not lay with you. As for the headmaster having you return for the summer,” another huffy sigh, “he may not have realized the severity of the situation. He tends to see the best in people.”

Harry frowned but looked down at the vegetable bed again. He wanted to ask about Uncle Severus’ behavior during the school year and if the same things he’d said applied to his own behavior, but Harry knew better than to ask.

...

Harry and Uncle Severus worked the afternoon away. They talked sparingly, about plants and gardens and the best times for planting so they wouldn’t have to discuss heavier topics. As the sun began to set, Flootsy called the pair into the house.

Uncle Severus went into the house grumbling about house elves overstepping boundaries as Flootsy set toast and soup onto the table. Flootsy smiled at Uncle Severus mischievously and gave a bow.

“Dinner, so sirs can go to the Cabin,” Flootsy said.

Uncle Severus rolled his eyes but sat at his seat without further complaint. Harry took the other seat, thanking Flootsy. She plated his fourth meal in a row, and while it had all been toast and soup, he could already tell the difference from eating regularly.

They ate quickly. Flootsy appeared as soon as they finished, whisking the plates away before Uncle Severus could protest more than rolling his eyes. Harry couldn’t help giggling. Of all the creatures he’d have expected capable of handling the Potions Master, he wouldn’t have expected a meter-tall elf wearing a pillowcase.

Uncle Severus glared at Harry but didn’t respond when Flootsy flashed Harry a grin.

“Time to head to the Cabin, then,” Flootsy said.

Harry stood, expecting to head to the front door. Instead, Uncle Severus crossed to the fireplace in the kitchen, taking a pot down and holding it out.

“You remember how to use Floo powder?” Uncle Severus asked.

Harry nodded.

“Our destination is Hazelhollow Cabin,” Uncle Severus said.

“Hazelhollow Cabin,” Harry repeated, since Uncle Severus had made him repeat the pronunciation earlier.

Uncle Severus gave him a nod and Harry climbed into the fireplace. With a toss of Floo powder and another repetition of their destination, Harry disappeared in a burst of flames only to stumble into a new room.

Harry moved aside, dusting himself off while looking around. He’d arrived into a kitchen and living room combo. Log walls bracketed the room, with a stone floor underfoot and a thatch roof overhead. The large windows let in the last of the dying light, through which Harry could see a small clearing before thick forest took over.

All the furniture in the room was made of wood, the decorations all wooden, metal, or woven. Everything looked like it had been there for at least a century, aside from a conspicuous lack of dust and cobwebs. The Cabin had dropped from a bygone time.

On the table lay a pile of Dudley’s old clothes and Harry grinned at the sight.

Green flames burst from the fireplace and Uncle Severus stepped into the room. Somehow, he’d managed to come through without any soot dirtying his robes.

“How’d you manage that?” Harry asked, waving at Uncle Severus’s robes before waving at himself.

Uncle Severus smirked.

“I am more surefooted than you.” With a wave of his wand, he spelled Harry’s robes clean once more. “Practice should help. You’ll manage with time.”

Harry waved a hand, indicating the room.

“Where are we?”

“This is one of my homes. You are not to tell anyone of this place, am I understood?” Uncle Severus asked.

Harry’s eyes widened, both as apparently his Potions Master owned multiple homes, as well as the need for secrecy.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want sir...” Harry hesitated, to which Uncle Severus raised an eyebrow. “Well, may I ask _why_ I’m not to tell anyone?”

Uncle Severus pinched the bridge of his nose before facing Harry.

“I inherited this place from my grandparents roughly five years ago, along with the rest of their estate. This is the most secluded property, and unknown by anyone outside the family. This property is only Floo-accessible from my other properties. It is a bolt-hole should the need ever arise. One of the best parts of its defenses is that no one knows of it. If you ever need to escape from Spinner’s End, this is where you shall come. Here, Flootsy or your owl – after I get her keyed into the wards – could find you and you could send for help through either of them. Because of this, you are not to tell anyone of this place. Not even your friends. Do you understand?” Uncle Severus asked.

Harry nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Good,” Uncle Severus picked up Dudley’s clothes, “then I believe we have a burning?”

Harry grinned and ran to the front door, opening it for Uncle Severus. Out in the clearing surrounding the Cabin, shadows engulfed the remains of a vegetable garden and wild, overgrown flowerbeds. Uncle Severus strode to the far end of the clearing, where he dumped the clothes unceremoniously on the ground. Uncle Severus pulled his wand out and transfigured an old stump into a large metal fire pit.

Harry picked a few pieces of clothes and threw them into the pit when Uncle Severus motioned for him to do so. Uncle Severus pointed his wand and a firm _incendio_ later, the clothes in the fire pit burst into flames.

“Be careful,” Uncle Severus said as Harry gleefully grabbed a few other pieces and tossed them into the fire. “Don’t smother the flames. I don’t want to cast the spell multiple times.”

The sun finished sinking below the horizon, and the flames reared higher as Harry added Dudley’s clothes. Uncle Severus showed Harry a few tricks to keeping the fire building. Satisfaction oozed from Harry as he added the last of Dudley’s clothes and watched them burn.

“Thank you for this,” Harry said, his eyes not moving from the flames.

Harry felt Uncle Severus look over at him. Harry kept watching the flames and listened to the snapping of the fire. Eventually, Uncle Snape looked back at the flames, staring until the fire had burned to embers.

“Come,” Uncle Severus said. “Let’s return.”

Uncle Severus extinguished the last few sparks and led Harry back into the Cabin. They went through the Floo and back to Spinner’s End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we know the Prince family was pureblooded. People have always conjectured that Eileen came from a good/possibly noble family. I'm running with that and making Severus head the of Ancient and Noble House of Prince. His grandparents made him Heir after seeing how brilliant he was at potions (not sure if this will ever come up, but in case anyone's curious). The change will give him a bit more clout in the wizarding world, which both he and Harry will need, as well as some more resources. And you always need more resources when you're fighting Voldemort and working with a stubborn Headmaster.


	6. Lily's Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, in case anyone was wondering - Severus is still a horrible person.
> 
> Also, this is basically one giant info-dump, but it's necessary because otherwise you won't understand my take on Severus.

_Dear Severus,_

_I am writing this letter in the wake of two miracles. The first is that you and James came away from our afternoon at Order headquarters last week without murdering each other. The second is that I won a row with James (that’s not the miracle), and there’s a strong chance that you’ll never read this, but if you are, I have an important announcement: you’re a possible guardian for Harry in the event of James’ and my deaths._

_I know, I know, this is both morbid and out of the blue. Unless we have some future conversation between my writing this letter and its delivery, you’ll find this as shocking as purebloods discovering muggles have gone to the moon. (You should have seen James’ and Sirius’ faces!)_

_And I realize that becoming Harry’s guardian will blow your spying out of the water and will upset Dumbledore's precious plans. Boo-hoo. I’ll do anything for Harry. (Don’t let Dumbledore read this.)_

_Anyways, I need to explain this decision better._

_With the uncertainty of the times, and the prophecy hanging over our family, James and I have been forced to face our mortality and plan for the worst. We are writing a Will. Part of the Will is who would serve as Harry's guardian._

_As I mentioned, James and I had a row and I won about having you as one of the possible guardians. If the next bit sounds insensitive, I apologize: I know you may not be the most comfortable with children, but after your own childhood, I know that you’d never raise a child cruelly. James opposed you being Harry’s guardian, even after knowing you’d turned spy, but we compromised. I charmed the Will and this letter. The charm registers intentions. If you have malicious intentions toward Harry, your name won’t appear on the Will and you’ll never read this letter. If you are reading this, well, I know you hate stating the obvious._

_You’re a possible guardian, but not first choice. I wanted you to have forewarning, so this doesn’t hit you out of the blue if you do end up Harry’s guardian. Unless something happens to those in the running before you, you’ll receive this letter but not be called to attend the reading of our Will. (I am trying to protect your spying as much as possible.)_

_We have Sirius as first choice, and Frank and Alice Longbottom next. After that, it's all you. James tried to convince me Peter was a better candidate. While Peter is... a fine, I don’t believe he has the strength of character to raise and protect Harry from Voldemort should James and I die (even if Peter’s our Secret Keeper – that’s supposed to be a secret but if you’re reading this someone hit us outside our home anyways.)_

_This may not be something you’d ever envisioned for yourself, but I know you’ll take care of Harry. Love my baby, Sev. I know you and his dad don’t get along, but if it comes down to you, give my boy a happy childhood._

_Thank you for warning us that Voldemort was coming after us._

_I hope you never get this letter. I hope we rekindle our friendship fully, as we’ve started to do. There’s a million questions I want to ask. If I don’t get to ask them, I hope you are well and that the war hasn’t worn too much on you, and you are happy. I don’t know what else to say, so, my friend, if ever the time comes: please protect my son._

_Lily_

_P.S. In the event you become Harry’s guardian, you should know Peter's an unregistered Animagus. James and Sirius are too, but if you’re reading this, James is dead already. I trust you to not reveal Sirius when he gives us an edge in the war and because it might hurt Harry, which is something you would never do after my death, isn’t it, Severus? Anyways, Peter is a rat. (James is a stag, and Sirius a large black dog, if you want to know.) If you become Harry’s guardian, Peter might use his form to spy on you and I thought you ought to know._

...

Severus held his second glass of scotch of the night. He’d broken the first by squeezing the glass too tightly during an earlier readthrough. He’d finished reading it for the fourth time and had stumbled in a daze to pour himself a new glass.

Minerva gifted him the scotch every Yule. Usually, Severus broke out a bottle when he had to do something particularly aggravating, so long as he didn’t have a potion to prepare soon after drinking. This usually meant he drank some when he had a tedious paper to grade. Severus had broken it out for the first day Harry had attended Hogwarts.

Aggravation was not the emotion Severus was currently trying to take the edge off. Rage. Guilt. A student’s paper had nothing on what Lily’s letter had revealed.

Severus remembered the meeting Lily had mentioned. He’d been amazed at having the chance to reconcile with her. After fifth year and the Eternally Unforgivable Incident, the message Dumbledore had relayed about Lily and James wanting to meet had shocked Severus.

He’d agreed to the meeting, because in what universe wouldn’t he take a chance to speak with Lily, even if she’d formed regrettable relations with Potter?

As it happened, Lily had seen Severus leaving a meeting with Dumbledore a week earlier. Lily had been the only person to know of Severus’ modified Notice-Me-Not charm invented at the start of fifth year. She knew the tell-tale signs as well as its counter. She’d cast the counter and seen Severus sneaking from Order headquarters – Severus had apparated away before either Lily or James could hex him into oblivion – and Lily had warned Albus, who’d been forced to admit Severus’ part as spy to the Dark Lord and the person who’d alerted them that the Dark Lord was hunting the Potters.

And then Lily had wanted to meet with Severus, so Severus came, because he always would have come for Lily. It had been stiff and awkward, and James’ presence had made it worse. Severus and Lily had gotten into a shouting match – well, Lily had been screaming, mostly about Severus being a magical Nazi so _what else_ was she supposed to do in Fifth Year – and James tried to butt in to yell too. Only Dumbledore’s quick actions had kept anyone from being hexed into a squirrel.

Still, it would have been so much worse if it had come out in that first meeting that Severus had been the person to report the prophecy to the Dark Lord in the first place. Severus didn’t know if Lily or James ever became aware of Severus’ role in that. He suspected not.

Somehow, following that disaster, Severus had received another invitation from Lily via Dumbledore to meet again.

Severus and Lily had met numerous times at Order headquarters. There had been more shouting. Severus had apologized at least seven times and stated how deeply he regretted his actions. 

Lily had demanded to know if Severus still believed in blood purity. 

Severus had lain awake many restless nights since becoming a Death Eater and pondered that very question. He'd thought of Lily. He'd thought of the purebloods he worked alongside, the vast majority coasting by more on amassed fortunes and reputation than genuine talent. He thought of himself, and all he had to offer the world but had been denied. He thought of his father and mother and grandparents, all bitter people resulting in a bitter child.

So Severus met Lily’s eye and said he’d revised his previous perspectives he’d held as a child. And the meetings between Severus and Lily had continued.

the last time they’d met at Order headquarters, on October 30, 1981, Lily had given Severus a piece of paper. On it, the words “ _Potter Cottage is located at 17 Bramblepatch Lane_ ” were written in Peter Pettigrew’s messy scrawl – the four so-called ‘Marauders’ had made Severus’ life at Hogwarts hell and he’d learned each of their handwriting as a matter of course.

Then Lily had grabbed Severus’ arm and apparated him to a country lane, and he’d realized with quiet awe that she’d allowed him through the defenses of the Fidelius charm protecting her home. He’d also raised an eyebrow at the realization that they’d chosen Pettigrew as Secret Keeper, but he had had to admit the little man made an unlikely choice, and therefore perfect.

“James brings his friends around to keep his sanity intact,” Lily had said, “it’s only fair that I get to bring my friends ‘round too.”

And Severus had been so humbled and overjoyed to be acknowledged as Lily’s friend once again that he’d tolerated an afternoon ignoring James puttering about in the garden and having to hold the wee Harry Potter to talk with Lily.

It had been wonderful, but by the next night it had crashed to an end and Severus had been overcome with grief. The Dark Lord had murdered Lily. What was worse, she’d been _murdered in her own home_.

Without waiting, Severus had embarked on a quest to find Pettigrew as soon as he’d left Godric’s Hollow after weeping over the body of the woman he'd loved.

Severus had been following a bad lead when the news had broken of Sirius Black’s arrest for betraying Lily and James, as well as for the murders of Pettigrew and a dozen or so muggles.

Seething that Black had beaten him to Pettigrew, Severus had sought out Albus. Albus, looking worn and sorrowful, had relayed the story of how Black had been Secret Keeper and poor Pettigrew died in a foolish attempt to bring justice on Black for Lily and James’ deaths.

Severus had sat in silence throughout, realizing that Albus either didn’t know the identity of the real Secret Keeper or was lying for reasons that Severus didn’t understand. Without a word, Severus had stumbled home and gotten his hands on the _Prophet_.

In it, the paper accused Black of giving away Lily and James’ location to the Dark Lord and murdering Pettigrew. Black’s words during his arrest were that it was ‘his fault’, _not_ that he’d betrayed Lily and James to the Dark Lord.

There hadn’t been a trial. The normal process of the law had been suspended for Death Eaters at the time. The aurors had caught Black, he’d made a self-incriminating statement, and they’d thrown him into Azkaban without looking any deeper.

As for Pettigrew... They’d only found a finger. A voice in Severus’ head whispered that Black killing Pettigrew was too convenient. Severus listened, as that voice had kept him alive during the war.

Even Black’s supposed confession upon his arrest had seemed odd to Severus. Perhaps Pettigrew had confounded Black?

It had been evident to Severus that Pettigrew had been underestimated for a long time, standing in the shadows of the other three Marauders.

So. Lily’s murderer had escaped justice to places unknown. In that moment, Severus had made a silent vow to find Pettigrew and make him pay for Lily’s death. And Pettigrew wouldn’t see the inside of Azkaban.

Severus had searched for leads on Pettigrew ever since, but the man had been infuriatingly good at going to ground. Severus had spent nearly every summer and winter break following possible leads, disguising his trips with a Potions conference or hunt for rare ingredients, to no avail.

Meanwhile, Black had languished in Azakaban. Severus had never considered revealing that Black wasn’t the real Secret Keeper.

Black deserved Azkaban after trying to murder Severus in school. And the result? A month of detentions. Sirius Black had tried to _murder_ Severus. If it weren’t for stupid Potter, Black would have succeeded. But Albus – well-meaning, bigoted, stupid Albus – had thought it nothing more than a _prank_ and never saw justice done or his precious Gryffindors held accountable. Black, Lupin, both had gotten away without consequence and he, Severus, had been forced into an oath and treated as though _he_ was the guilty party.

If Black had ever been legally tried – as he should have been – the punishment would have been Azkaban. Karma had caught up.

But Severus _had_ needed to consider who else might know Black wasn’t the true Secret Keeper.

There was Sirius Black himself, but as Lily had observed in her letter, Severus hated stating the obvious. Also, the man hadn’t gotten any brighter if he’d allowed himself to get thrown into Azkaban so easily.

Lupin? Possibly. He’d been friends with Potter and Black, although that wouldn’t explain why he’d not spoken up about Pettigrew and Black. Then again, maybe he’d been afraid to draw attention to himself and risk someone discovering his lycanthropy... No. No, whatever his faults, Lupin wouldn’t have let his last friend wallow in Azkaban to protect himself. Lupin hadn’t known.

Hagrid? There was a much stronger possibility Hagrid had known, though Severus honestly didn’t know why Hagrid would have been made privy to the Potters’ hideout. Severus knew Hagrid had been involved in some manner that night. Severus had seen Hagrid a few days after that Halloween and Hagrid had made passing reference to picking Harry up from Sirius Black.

But no, Hagrid had also been regretting he hadn’t wreaked vengeance against Black for murdering Lily and James. And, come to think of it, Severus didn’t know how close to the house Hagrid had been when Black had passed off to the half-giant. Had Hagrid even been within the wards? Or had he met Black outside the wards?

Whatever the case, Hagrid hadn’t known who the Secret Keeper was. Perhaps he’d been given a note like Severus. If that were the case, the chances of Hagrid realizing the handwriting didn’t match Black’s handwriting seemed... minimal.

So, aside from Lily and James, only Black, Pettigrew and Severus himself had access to Potter Cottage, with Hagrid a minor possibility. But had there been anyone else?

Had Dumbledore known?

Just the possibility terrified Severus. If Dumbledore had been granted access to Potter Cottage, it would mean he’d known this entire time Sirius Black wasn’t the Secret Keeper. And of all people, Dumbledore had good reason to be allowed entrance to Potter Cottage.

Even if Dumbledore had received a written note with Pettigrew’s writing, the old man was clever enough to work out whose handwriting it was. But if Albus had known Black was innocent and let him go to Azkaban anyways... What did that mean?

Severus had been on the verge on panicking years ago when he’d thought of this, because this was _Albus Dumbledore_ and why would he let one of his Gryffindors go to prison? He’d allowed Black to get away with attempted murder. What could have changed the old man’s policy?

At the time, Severus had had no answer to explain it. He’d concluded that Albus had no clue of Black’s innocence, so Severus had kept his silence. Black had it coming and Severus had been satisfied Albus knew nothing. Afterall, what could Albus’ possible motivation be?

Now, though, with what Severus had learned in the last few days about Harry being raised by Petunia...

It always came down to Harry Potter, the Dark Lord, and the damned prophecy, didn’t it? Because that was the only possible reason Albus could have for abandoning Sirius Black. Severus had known Albus since boyhood and had worked for Albus for over a decade now. They weren’t close, per se, but had grown to know each other well and served as each other’s confidantes when required. Severus had learned many things about Albus, and he’d learned Albus Dumbledore would sacrifice _anything_ for the greater good. Even Sirius Black.

Even, perhaps, Harry Potter?

Without meaning to, Severus looked down at his arm where the Dark Mark lay hidden. Foreboding twisted in his gut. The Mark had faded since the fall of the Dark Lord, but over the years it had twinged now and then. Severus had had a panic attack the first time, but when nothing had happened, he’d returned his focus to drilling little second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws about why they were all botching a perfectly simple potion.

But still, every now and then his arm twinged... Because of those twinges, Severus was one of the few who suspected the Dark Lord had survived.

There had been more to the prophecy, more that Severus hadn’t heard before Aberforth had kicked Severus out of the Hog’s Head. Albus had never informed Severus what the rest of the prophecy said. Had part of it not been fulfilled? Was Lily’s son still caught in its web?

Severus laid the facts and suspicions out within his mind. Fact 1: Peter Pettigrew had been the Secret Keeper to Lily and Potter. Fact 2: Harry hadn’t been meant to go to live with Petunia and her husband per his parents’ Will. Fact 3: Albus had arranged for Harry to live with Petunia. Suspicion 1: Albus knew Black was innocent. Suspicion 2: ... Albus had known of Harry’s abuse.

It was awful, terrible, but Severus knew Albus. Albus wouldn’t have let the boy go without keeping an eye on the boy, not if Albus thought part of the prophecy was still unfulfilled. It meant, or at least Severus suspected, Albus had known the boy was abused and had done nothing.

Albus had stepped up from his usual stance on abusive households. Severus had known since his student days that Albus didn’t interfere with children trapped in abusive homes. That stance had been reinforced after Severus became the Head of Slytherin and Albus had waved away Severus’ concerns whenever he’d gone to Albus about a student’s living conditions. Severus had always had to gone around Albus.

One of Albus’ few flaws was that he’d always believe in the power of love and second chances and he’d never adequately intervene. Albus treated it as a strength, but the trait devastated the lives of vulnerable children. All this time, Severus had thought that the flaw ended at a lack of intervention. He’d never suspected that Albus would _participate_ in abuse, even indirectly.

Why? Why do that to a child? A normal, decent person wouldn’t have had an answer, but Severus was neither normal nor decent. He was too Slytherin not to see. Albus had played a role, no matter how passively, in Harry’s abominable childhood. But how did Albus treat Harry when the boy arrived at Hogwarts? Like a kind grandfather. It made Severus’ stomach churn. Albus used the Dursleys to create a contrast between himself and the people who had raised Harry. With a choice between a loving Albus and an abusive Petunia, who would Harry blindly follow and do anything for?

And Severus had stumbled upon and removed Harry from Albus’ plans. Severus didn’t know what those plans were, but he’d vowed to protect Lily’s son. He’d just never thought he’d need to protect Harry from Albus.

Albus was now an enemy.

The knowledge settled over Severus like a noose. Whatever plans Albus had for Harry, Severus had wrecked them, and any plans involving a child to live with abuse such as Harry had gone through were no plans Severus would allow to continue.

But Albus was also the best ally to have when the Dark Lord returned – because the madman would return. Severus had been banking on Albus’ protection when the Dark Lord returned, despite Severus knowing he’d have to return to his work as a spy.

Severus steepled his hands and thought.

Albus oversaw Severus at work, had access to Harry during the schoolyear, and held numerous political titles. As things stood, neither Severus nor Harry would be safe from Albus. True, Severus had legal custody now, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t find a reason to rule Severus an unfit guardian – look at his and Harry’s interactions in Harry’s first year.

As for the Dark Lord...

Severus grimaced as he thought of the partial prophecy he’d heard. Even though he’d heard only part of it, he knew Potter had been marked as the Dark Lord’s equal. It... put things in perspective. Yes, Albus had done great things. But Albus wasn’t the person who would ultimately be able to defeat the Dark Lord. Potter had a long ways to go to be ready to face the Dark Lord, but it was Potter – not Albus – who was their best shot. With training, the boy might even stand a chance.

Severus winced. It went against his nature to throw away an ally as strong as Albus, but Severus’ vow weighed on his mind. Severus could either borrow Albus’ power, or he could protect Lily’s son. He could not do both. And at the end of the day, regrettable though the need for the decision was, it wasn’t even a real decision to make.

Severus bowed his head as he reconciled himself to start cutting ties with Albus.

His mind circled back to how to thwart Albus’ control over the child. Severus needed to either take the boy and flee the country or destroy some of Albus’ power and influence. He found neither option favorable.

Severus had inherited the Prince fortune at twenty-five. Part of the inheritance included several vacation homes spread throughout the Continent. If necessary, Severus could take Harry and run.

But Potter would fight him every step of the way. If the boy had only now found happiness, he’d fight tooth and nail to hold onto it. Potter would want to be in England, and worse, would still trust Albus. If anything, taking Potter out of country would make Albus more favorable in the child’s eyes.

No, fleeing the country with Potter was a last resort. But then how to strip Albus of his power, not to mention his influence on Potter?

Severus poured yet another glass of scotch. He swirled the liquid, watching how it caught the light, before taking a considering sip.

Severus didn’t have the power on his own to bring down Albus. Yes, Severus had inherited the Prince seat on the Wizenhelm – the wizarding legislative branch – but he’d appointed a proxy because he spent so much time at Hogwarts and didn’t have the time nor energy for listening to adult dunderheads make decisions that had country-wide ramifications. That hampered making political connections that couldn’t aided him now. He had nothing on Albus’ political clout.

The Ministry would start investigating why Harry had ended up with Petunia. Would that be enough? Albus had practice side-stepping obstacles. If nothing else, he’d be able to feign ignorance of what had occurred within 4 Privet Drive. Could Severus leverage that as negligence enough to remove Albus from having anything to do with Potter?

Going to the _Daily Prophet_ would not do. Severus didn’t want to drag Harry’s name through the papers. The story would leak at some point, but Severus would not be the one to bring it to the _Prophet’_ s attention.

Severus needed an ally powerful enough to counter Dumbledore.

Severus entertained going to Lucius. If Severus went to Lucius, though, Lucius would use it for his own agenda and spin it as proof muggle and muggleborn inferiority. Still, the two men had become friends in the last decade – which would be ironic now, as Albus had ordered Severus to foster the friendship. If someone else brought the news of Potter’s new placement to Lucius, Lucius would take it as an insult. Severus couldn’t alienate a potential ally. Besides, Lucius would spin the narrative to his advantage anyways once he caught wind of this. No need for Severus to fuel Lucius’ fire

Severus sighed. Lucius wouldn’t be the Severus’ first visit, but he would be one of the few Severus bothered informing in person. If the news did break before Severus had a chance to call, Severus would plead being overwhelmed with the new duties thrust upon him. With that approach, Severus would be able to spin needing advice or assistance from Lucius, and Lucius’ ego would be sufficiently stroked to mollify the other man.

Severus took another sip. If he were a lesser man, he’d skip the glass and moved on to the bottle. Who’d have thought taking in Potter could be so aggravating without the boy doing a single thing?

Severus used his spare hand to rub at his temples.

He, Severus, had sworn a vow to protect Harry Potter. Severus would do so, even if some of the actions necessary proved unpleasant. Potter would not come to harm.

Could Severus turn to no one in England? He didn’t want to leave things in the hands of Ms. Crilly.

Severus grimaced. If nothing else, he’d need to race to ensure his hold of the boy was absolute and unquestionable. He wasn’t so foolish as to believe Albus hadn’t somehow already heard that Severus now served as Potter’s guardian. If Albus hadn’t heard yet, he would know by tomorrow. Severus wanted the hatches already battened down by the time Albus’ storm tried to overtake them.

Severus rubbed at his eyes. At the very least, he’d need to see his solicitor. Best do that in private and not alarm the boy.

Severus gazed at the living room, taking in the house for the first time in years. He’d continued living at Spinner’s End, despite his inheritance, as a form of penitence and self-flagellation for what had happened to Lily. Harry hadn’t earned living out a punishment in this horrid house, even if the boy inexplicably liked the place.

They’d have to move to another Prince property. Not the Cottage, though it was Severus’ favorite. Perhaps the London townhouse. Prince Manor was too large for two people, and Severus suspected the opulence of the place would overwhelm Harry.

Well then. Tomorrow, they’d move and Severus would start orchestrating the downfall of Albus Dumbledore.

Severus stared at the letter in his hand, mulling it over. Lily’s letter had given Severus a huge clue: Pettigrew was an animagus. If Pettigrew had hidden as a rat for all these years, it would explain why Severus had never found him. In addition to bringing about Albus’ downfall, Severus would need to start investigating how to find a rat. There wasn’t much to go on, but Severus had more information to go on than before.

Severus stroked the letter. What to do with the letter itself?

He’d not said anything before, but the letter gave him an out about Black if Severus desired. He could claim he hadn’t known about Black’s innocence before the letter. Severus could come forward with this piece of evidence and begin the process of proving Black’s innocence. People would cheer at the redemption of Potter’s best friend and hurry to make amends for the _terrible_ misunderstanding.

Severus glanced at the ceiling. A floor above, Lily’s son slept off a day of adoption, shopping, and burning his past.

Sirius Black was the boy’s godfather and the first choice for guardianship in Lily and James’ Will. It might take a year or two for Black to mentally recover – though Severus used the term dubiously – but at some point, Harry would be given to Black’s care with as little fuss as he’d been given to Severus. If Severus truly wanted an out to raising Harry, he’d found his solution. He’d be rid of all the headaches he’d received when he’d intervened in Potter’s life.

But if Severus turned in the letter, Black would raise Harry to be James’ replica. The thought curdled Severus’ stomach. He didn’t want to see Lily’s son to end up his father’s reincarnation.

No. No no no no no.

Harry Potter, against all expectations, was not a spoiled little monster whose ego prevented him from boarding the Hogwarts Express. He hadn’t arrived self-assured, arrogant, and as awful as his father. Lily’s son had a chance – Severus didn’t know how big of a chance, but it was a chance – to grow up to be a decent human being. Sirius Black would ruin all of that.

Severus would never let Black get his claws into Harry Potter.

Severus’s attention turned back to the letter in his hand. The sentence for attempted murder was a minimum of twenty years in Azkaban, if Severus remembered correctly. Black had been in Azkaban now for, what, ten years? Eleven? Another nine or ten years and Harry would be too old for Black to influence his personality and character too drastically. Should Severus pretend to discover the letter after those twenty years were through?

But that wasn’t believable. Both Ms. Crilly and Harry had seen Severus receive the letter. No one would believe that Severus had waited another decade before reading it. If anyone discovered he’d had this evidence all along, Severus could be charged with obstruction of justice.

Severus downed the rest of the scotch and left the living room, heading to the kitchen. He was proud of the kitchen in Spinner’s End, the only part – aside from his potions lab – that he’d bothered updating and maintaining since his father had died and the house had become his. He loved the fireplace. Most happy memories from his childhood that happened within this home, though few and far between, took place on the fireplace’s hearth, listening to his mother tell stories about their heritage as he helped bake or brew when his father had been off at work or a drinking binge.

Severus knelt by the fireplace, giving a final caress to his last gift from his first and only love. He laid the proof of Black’s innocence in amongst the ashes. Severus cast _incendio_ and watched the letter burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle in, folks, this is my longest note to date.
> 
> 1\. So, the Fidelius Charm on the Potter's cottage. JKR's treatment of it seems sketchy to me. In Book 7, it's established that the Fidelius had fallen upon his parents' deaths, since Harry could see it (Harry, sweet child, you literally lived there - of course YOU can see it, it's Hermione who was the real test). Personally, I think that's crap and the Fidelius is still up and kicking. Even if the Fidelius on Potter Cottage had been tied to the residents' lives, it should still be active because Harry's alive. James & Lily wouldn't design it as 'gee, we're dead and not around to protect our son anymore - I know, let's just take ALL his protection with us too!' 
> 
> So personally, I've always believed that the Fidelius Charm was still active and that the Potter's gate is as far as anyone outside the Fidelius can see/get. Otherwise, you totally know looters would have WRECKED that house getting any valuables or personal mementos to take home. I don't care what that sign says on the gate says, nobody could see it, muggle or otherwise. People are awful, disrespectful little leeches, and that's doubly true in the wizarding community, given how the public acts towards Harry. (I promise I like people.)
> 
> But what about Hermione, you ask? What about Nagini? First, Nagini is an animal, and I don't think that the Fidelius works on her. As for Hermione, it's my headcannon that since the Fidelius was put up when Harry was a baby/toddler, Pettigrew couldn't actually tell Harry about the location and Harry couldn't memorize the location. So, I think Harry was made a secondary Secret Keeper, and that was why Hermione can see it. She doesn't see it until Harry points it out to her. (Could Pettigrew just have carried Harry over the boundary to bring him in on the secret? Yes. Are wizards logical? Not really, no.) Anyways, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. 
> 
> Now, this leads us to Snape. If you stick with my premise that the Fidelius is still up and kicking during Book 7, the fact that there's a scene where Snape holds Lily's dead body means that at least per movie cannon, SNAPE WAS BROUGHT IN ON THE SECRET. Now, I'm trying to stick to book cannon mostly, but the idea of Snape knowing the whole time who the Secret Keeper was was too good to pass up and is actually one of the biggest inspirations for this story. (The other being that Harry really should at least give a cursory thanks to Snape for, you know, saving his life in 1st year.)
> 
> 2\. Albus isn't evil in this story, per se, but even in cannon he's a monster. I mean, he was planning since Year 2 at the absolute latest how to get a TEENAGER TO COMMIT SUICIDE. He's not getting a free pass here. (I really think that Dumbledore's biggest character flaw stems from his gigantic, moon-sized ego and unwillingness to ask anyone for help or to double-check his work even when Harry's life is on the line. Who knows, someone may have come up with an alternative to getting the Horcrux out other than killing Harry.)
> 
> 3\. I’m going to redeem Snape’s character, but oh man, he’s still a bastard at this point.
> 
> Also, big shout out to sattwa100 for being the only person (that I know of) to catch on to the fact that Snape mentioned hunting Pettigrew back in Chapter 2. I didn't answer your questions back when you raised the issue, but hopefully this is a satisfactory answer now. 😁😁😁
> 
> As always, everyone, thanks for reading this story of mine, for all the comments, and all the kudos. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!
> 
> Lots of love ❤ - Ramblings


	7. Changing Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My weekly offerings. 
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos!

Harry wanted to throw up.

“What?” he asked weakly.

“I expect you picked this up at Hogwarts, Potter, but if I have to clarify, I will do so once: I do not enjoy repeating myself. Kindly perform the courtesy of listening the first time someone speaks,” Uncle Severus said. “Now, once you are done with breakfast, go pack your things and prepare to move.”

All of Harry’s fragile hopes dashed apart. Uncle Severus – no, Snape – had had Harry for a day and was already getting rid of him. Numbness swept through Harry as he stared at Snape in disbelief before he swept all his emotions off his face.

“Of course, sir,” he said.

Harry stood, taking his plate to the sink to wash. He’d received an apple at breakfast along with his toast, because Snape thought Harry could start expanding his diet. Harry had thought that had been the start to a good day. Apparently not.

Harry climbed the stairs and went to the room where his things were. He looked around dully. Snape had called it Harry’s room yesterday. He’d said they would get new furniture, even though Harry had thought the room already perfect.

It wasn’t Harry’s room anymore.

Snape had bought Harry new clothes yesterday. Were those still his clothes? They’d burned all of Harry’s other clothes last night. Harry didn’t have any other clothes besides what Snape had bought him.

Miserable, Harry opened the wardrobe and stared at the clothes. He tried deciding if he dared to pack anything or if he should ask Snape what he’d allow Harry to keep.

Tears formed, and Harry scrubbed angrily at the corners of his eyes. This was stupid. He shouldn’t care that Snape had changed his mind. Who’d wanted Harry before anyways? The Dursleys hadn’t, and now Ron and Hermione didn’t either. And this was Snape. For all Harry knew, Snape had played an absurd game to tease Harry when they returned to Hogwarts.

Harry touched the sleeve of one of his new robes. Sniffing, he grabbed his school robes and packed those into his trunk. He thought Snape would let Harry keep at least those.

An idea occurred to Harry.

“Flootsy!” Harry called.

Flootsy appeared in front of Harry and smiled.

“What can Flootsy do for Harry?” Flootsy asked.

Harry gave her a splintered smile.

“Flootsy, do you know how much of my clothes I’m keeping?” Harry asked.

Flootsy tilted her head.

“Flootsy doesn’t understand,” Flootsy said.

Harry shifted, not meeting her eye.

“Well, Professor Snape said to pack my things because he’s getting rid of me. Do you know if he’s letting me keep the clothes we got yesterday?” Harry asked.

Flootsy’s eyes widened and without a word, she apparated away.

Harry frowned where Flootsy had disappeared. Did she not know? Harry turned back to the wardrobe and poked through the clothes. He had to decide what clothes to pack soon, since Snape wasn’t patient.

Harry heard someone walking upstairs. He cringed and grabbed a few random pieces out of the wardrobe and stuffed them into the trunk. Harry didn’t want to get yelled at for being too slow.

A knock.

“Harry?” Snape called.

Harry swallowed. “Come in.”

The door opened and Snape stepped in. He studied Harry, making Harry squirm.

“Sit down,” Snape said, motioning at the bed.

Harry furrowed his brow but sat as instructed. Snape took the chair at the desk and turned it so he could face Harry.

“Harry,” Snape said slowly, “Flootsy came down to talk to me.”

Harry flushed and studied the floor.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude, sir,” Harry said.

“Why do you think I’m getting rid of you?” Snape asked.

Harry shrugged, not meeting Snape’s eyes.

“You said so sir,” Harry said.

“That’s not what I said,” Snape snapped

Harry shrank back and Snape stopped short, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. After exhaling, Snape leaned forward in his chair.

“Harry, I need you to _listen_. I am never getting rid of you. I took you in, and as far as I am concerned, you aren’t going anywhere until you come of age. I apologize for any confusion. When I told you to pack, I meant we are _both_ moving.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped as tension fled and he blinked away more tears. He hoped Snape didn't see them.

“Why are we moving?” Harry asked.

Snape motioned at the room around them.

“I’ve lived here for some time. When I lived alone, it didn’t matter. However, neither Cokeworth nor this house are suitable for a child. I have other properties, so we are moving to one of them,” Snape said.

“Oh,” Harry whispered.

Snape pursed his lips.

“I am not tossing you aside like yesterday’s rubbish,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry flushed.

“Do you know what to pack now?”

Harry gave Snape an uncertain smile.

“Yeah, that answers my question,” Harry said.

Uncle Severus gave a sharp nod and stood. “Pack, then, and let Flootsy know when you’re done. She’ll take the trunk.”

Harry nodded and Uncle Severus left the room.

Harry crossed to his wardrobe and pulled his clothes out. He straightened up the clothes already stuffed into his trunk before packing the rest. Uncle Severus seemed to be a stickler for neatness, like Aunt Petunia. Harry collected the school supplies and the odds and ends he’d set out yesterday. It irritated him that he had to repack as soon as he’d unpacked, but if Uncle Severus wasn’t getting rid of him, Harry wouldn’t complain.

Harry finished packing and called for Flootsy, who took the trunk away after patting his arm reassuringly. Harry put Hedwig in her cage and carried it downstairs, eager to see where he and Uncle Severus were moving.

Uncle Severus waited in the living room, perusing the books and pulling a few from the shelf.

“Are you ready?” Snape asked, pulling a final book down.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“Good, let’s go,” Uncle Severus said.

Uncle Severus led the way to the kitchen, where he handed Harry the pot of Floo powder.

“We’re going to Heelhare House,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry nodded, took a handful of powder, and stepped into the fireplace.

With a green flash, he and Hedwig disappeared from Spinner’s End and into a dusty parlor. Harry stepped further into the room, taking it all in.

Based on this room alone, Heelhare House was the fanciest house Harry had ever stepped foot inside. The floors were marble, and the furniture was all intricately carved with a delicate appearance. Even with an air of neglect about the place, it radiated more of a I’ve-been-forgotten kind of way rather than the I’m-so-old-I’m-going-to-fall-apart-and-I-wasn’t-built-well-to-begin-with atmosphere of Spinner’s End. The room even had wall sconces. Harry had only seen wall sconces at Hogwarts. What kind of house had wall sconces?

A portrait hung on the wall directly opposite the fireplace. In it, a handsome man of middling years with brown hair raised a brow at Harry, beckoning him closer. Harry stepped forward to introduce himself.

Before either Harry or the portrait could speak, flames erupted behind Harry and Uncle Severus stepped into the room. He smirked at the expression on Harry’s face.

“Welcome to Heelhare House,” Uncle Severus said.

“We’re going to live here?” Harry asked in amazement.

Uncle Severus nodded. “Yes, we are.”

"What glad tidings, M'Lord. I'd been unaware of your change in circumstances," the portrait across from the fireplace said.

Uncle Severus bowed to the portrait. "My apologies, Lord Dunstan, for not having informed you earlier. The decision to move to Heelhare House was made only last night, and I did not think to have my house-elf give you forewarning."

"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Prince. I am surprised to see you but having residents at Heelhare again is glad tidings after so many years of emptiness." The portrait flashed Harry a smile. "I admit, though, that when this young page came through the Floo, I thought him lost."

"No, he's not. This is Mr. Harry Potter, Heir to the Noble House of Potter, my new ward. He's the reason for our move - our previous lodgings were not a fit place for him to grow up. Harry, this is Lord Dunstan Prince, my ancestor and the receiving portrait here at Heelhare House," Uncle Severus said.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Good morrow to you, Heir Potter. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Dunstan said.

"Apologies, Dunstan, but I will have to fill you in on the details of our move later. We have quite a lot of work to get done today. I will fill you in at the first chance I have," Uncle Severus said.

Dunstan accepted the apology with a nod.

"I have witnessed a few moves throughout the years. I know how much work lays before you," Dunstan said. “I will be here, waiting for you when you have a moment’s time.”

“Thank you, Dunstan,” Uncle Severus said. “I’ll speak with you as soon as possible to apprise you of what you need to know.”

Dunstan nodded and flashed Harry another smile as Uncle Severus motioned for Harry to follow.

“Give your owl to Flootsy. Flootsy will let her out in the owlery so she doesn’t stay cooped up in her cage,” Uncle Severus said.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Flootsy?”

With a _crack_ , Flootsy popped into the room. 

“What can Flootsy do for Harry?”

“Can you take Hedwig to the owlery and let her free?” Harry asked.

Flootsy bobbed her head. “Flootsy will be happy to help.”

Harry handed Hedwig and her cage over to Flootsy before hurrying after Uncle Severus. Uncle Severus led Harry up a set of stairs to the first floor, where he stopped and opened the first door on the left.

“This is my room,” Uncle Severus said. “Like at Spinner’s End, you’re only allowed inside during emergencies.”

“Okay,” Harry said.

“You may choose any other room in the house for your own,” Uncle Severus said, nodding down the rest of the hall. “Call Flootsy when you’ve decided. She’ll bring your things to the room. I have an errand and I’m not sure how long it will take. Will you be fine on your own for a few hours without getting up to any trouble?”

“Oh, I’m used to supervising myself,” Harry reassured Uncle Severus. “The Dursleys went on a weekend trip once and kept me in my cupboard instead of taking me to Mrs. Figg’s. A few hours will be fine.”

Uncle Severus’ face scrunched and he didn’t look reassured like Harry had intended.

“I see.” Uncle Severus’ voice had gone flat and sour. “Well, if you need anything, let Flootsy know. I will return as soon as possible. If I’m not back by lunch, Flootsy can prepare your lunch. She’ll still stick to your dietary restrictions. Do try not to make a menace of yourself, or you shall find the consequences... unpleasant.”

“Okay,” Harry said, doing his best to look meek.

Uncle Severus disappeared in a swirl of robes.

Safely out of sight, Harry rolled his eyes. The man was dramatic even outside the classroom.

Putting thoughts of dramatic Potions Masters aside, Harry began looking through the available rooms. The first door revealed a room all in pale yellow. The feminine appearance had Harry scrunching his nose. He could already hear Ron’s teasing.

Harry scrunched his face further and gripped the doorframe until the hollowness left from remembering Ron wouldn’t be around to tease him, not when he refused to answer Harry’s letters.

Harry closed the door and moved on to the next one. Shades of brown predominated this room. Harry closed the door before he took any more in. Harry went through three more rooms, all discarded for one reason or another.

The options astonished him. A few days ago, he’d been living in the smallest bedroom at 4 Privet Drive because his aunt and uncle no longer dared keep him in the cupboard. Now, Uncle Severus had unleashed Harry onto the house and given permission to choose any room but Uncle Severus’.

Harry’d worked his way down one side of the corridor and started making his way down the other side, back towards the direction of Uncle Severus’ room. He had only two more options left to explore. 

Harry opened the second-to-last door. Warm tans with accents of green, gold, and navy greeted him. This room was smaller than the others, but truth be told, the others overwhelmed Harry. This one, though, was comfortable.

The furniture was all made of a light maple wood. The bed, to Harry’s relief, wasn’t a four-poster bed like at Hogwarts. He thought that sort of bed too much for a house, but a couple of the options had one. Aside from the bed, the room also had a wardrobe, desk, an armchair, two nightstands on either side of the bed, and a door in the far corner of the bedroom.

Harry padded into the room, admiring the rug covering the floor. He went to the bed and ran his hand over the green and navy comforter. It was soft as down. He flopped onto the mattress and groaned in comfort.

Feeling increasingly optimistic, Harry went and poked around the desk and wardrobe. Both were empty. If he’d found the previous occupants’ things still inside, it would have felt as though Harry were intruding into someone else’s space.

Dust covered the furniture, but it didn’t detract from the room’s homeliness. The others had felt colder. Rightness settled over Harry the further he investigated the room.

He padded over to the second door in the room and opened it, revealing a private bathroom. The claw footed tub impressed Harry the most, straight out of a magazine. He’d never been allowed to take a bath before, since they took too much time and water and freaks weren’t worth it, and Hogwarts only offered showers. Now, though, he thought he’d quite like trying a bath.

Satisfied, he left the bathroom to go stand in his new bedroom.

“Flootsy,” Harry called.

A heartbeat passed and Flootsy stood beside Harry.

“Mr. Harry,” Flootsy said, smiling at Harry.

“Flootsy, this is going to be my room,” Harry said.

Flootsy studied the room for a moment.

“Flootsy can clean and get Mr. Harry Potter’s things,” Flootsy said.

“Do you want help?” Harry asked. “Uncle Severus said to pick a room, but I’m not sure what to do after.”

Flootsy shook her head.

“Flootsy will do the cleaning today, since this house has been closed for years. Mr. Harry Potter can clean this room afterwards as part of his chores.” Flootsy cocked her head and thought a moment. “Has Mr. Harry Potter finished his homework?”

Harry snorted and shook his head. His school things had been locked in the cupboard until Uncle Severus had taken Harry away. There’d been no time since leaving the Dursleys two days ago.

“Then Mr. Harry should go to the ground floor to the kitchen. Flootsy will send his homework there and will fetch Harry when she’s done cleaning. Master Severus will be pleased Harry was productive,” Flootsy said.

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” Harry said.

Leaving the house elf to her cleaning, Harry left the room and bounced down the stairs. He searched through the ground floor until he found the kitchen table, his school supplies piled on top.

...

Severus flooed from Heelhare House to the office of Timothy Norton, Severus’ solicitor and proxy on the Wizenhelm.

“Mr. Snape, good morning. Mr. Norton expected you,” Alexander Rosecliff, Norton’s receptionist, said.

“Is Mr. Norton available to see me this morning?” Severus asked.

Rosecliff nodded. “Mr. Norton cleared his schedule. I’ll see if he’s ready or if he’s in the –”

“Don’t worry, Alex,” Norton said, stepping from his office. Norton waved to Severus. “Come in, Lord Prince.”

Severus nodded to Rosecliff and followed Norton into his office.

Norton was as short and fat as Severus was tall and thin. He had black hair and a mustache that had an unfortunate resemblance to Horace Slughorn’s. If the two men’s personalities had been similar, Severus would have let Norton go as the Prince solicitor as soon as Severus had taken the title of Lord Prince. Fortunately, Norton was a man of no fuss or frills.

Norton’s house elf, Jippy, popped into the office, pulling a chair back for Severus as Norton took his own seat. The house elf disappeared, only to reappear with a tray of tea. With the tea placed in front of both men, Jippy disappeared once more.

“I would hazard a guess, Lord Prince, that you are here about the Potter Will I received yesterday?” Norton asked.

“Yes. Two days ago, I visited Harry Potter. I had concerns about the boy’s home life and discovered the boy suffering abuse. I removed him immediately, but given the hour, took him home with me until the Ministry opened the next morning. When I took Potter to Family Services, I learned no one had read the Will yet and I was his legal guardian.” At this, Norton’s eyebrows rose. “The woman at Family Services said they’d investigate, but I wanted to know if you would advise any additional steps on my end. I also want to know if anything else needs to be done affecting Mr. Potter since no one ever read the Will.”

Norton’s frown had deepened throughout Severus’ narrative.

“You say the Will wasn’t opened before yesterday?” Norton asked.

Severus nodded. “No one read it I brought Mr. Potter in to acquire new living arrangements.”

Norton frowned.

“I’ve read through the Will. It’s straightforward, as far as Mr. Potter is concerned. They left a few vaults to him, all the Potter properties. I’ll look into matters and ensure no one’s robbed Mr. Potter. That is the most pressing matter about the Will,” Norton said.

Severus nodded and sipped his tea. Since the second time Severus had tea with Norton, Jippy had served the tea exactly per Severus’ specifications. It’d been a subtle indication of the luxuries Severus could enjoy as head of a noble house. 

“The goblins said he had two trust vaults and would receive the main Potter vault upon his coming of age. I want to make sure that no one took the boy’s inheritance,” Severus said.

Norton nodded, making a note on a pad of parchment beside him.

“Yes, it will be quite the scandal if someone robbed the Boy-Who-Lived,” Norton agreed. “That should be one of our first priorities. The Potters were a wealthy family. Someone may have seen an opportunity and used the confusion at the end of the war to grab the Potter fortune.”

Severus grimaced. He wanted to avoid a scandal but knew that they were already in the middle of one and had been since he’d discovered Potter’s living situation.

“Mr. Potter and I visited Gringotts yesterday. The goblins said no one had withdrawn money from either of Mr. Potter’s trust vaults since his parents’ deaths, nor did they mention any withdrawals from the main Potter vault,” Severus said.

Norton shrugged and grabbed a biscuit off the tea tray.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean much. I’d agree the trust vaults are likely fine, but it could be the goblins aren’t going to willingly offer any information without a direct question.” Norton gave a thoughtful hum. “The goblins hate thieves. If they realized yesterday someone had stolen from the Potter vaults, they could seek out the perpetrator themselves without alerting anyone. They guard the reputation of Gringotts ferociously.”

“That they do,” Severus agreed.

The goblins might have someone to hunt down, but Severus doubted it. Albus wouldn’t have stolen the Potter fortune.

“I’m used to looking after students’ best interests in my capacity as Head of Slytherin, but have never before been the sole caretaker of a child. There may be an area of interest I will not think of or be less than thorough in,” Snape said.

It galled Severus to admit to any weak spot, but he trusted in the oaths Norton had sworn upon Severus ascending to Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Prince.

Norton laughed.

“A Slytherin, being anything less than thorough? I find that hard to believe,” Norton said.

Severus wouldn’t admit it, but he liked Norton. The man had been a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, but he hadn’t obtained their overly sentimental nature. He’d gotten in as a ‘Puff by being slow to judge and a hard worker. Both made him an excellent solicitor.

“Anyways,” Norton said, “as far as things to take care of for Mr. Potter – the paperwork’s been filed and there’s already been a full medical. I’ll coordinate with the Ministry’s Legal and Family Services departments to make sure these Dursley people receive the full brunt of the law for what they did.”

Severus nodded in satisfaction. It wouldn’t be as satisfying as hexing the pants off Tuney himself – actually, that sounded the opposite of satisfying and Severus promised himself never to think of it again – but Severus knew the worst possible consequences lay in wait for those who’d dared harm the public’s precious Boy-Who-Lived once the Wizengamot got their claws in them.

“Hogwarts will need to be notified, of course. Have you done that already?” Norton asked.

Severus shook his head.

“I’ve been too busy getting things settled for Harry,” Severus said.

“Well, I’ll send notices through the official channels then. You can notify people in person if you so desire.”

Here, Norton cast a speculative glance at Severus. After the last five years representing Severus, the man knew something of Severus’ lack of social connections. He carried on without comment. Another point in his favor.

“I also believe I need to start pressing as to how Mr. Potter ended up with these Dursleys. They’re muggles, so they didn’t grab the child on their own. Someone in the magical community aided them,” Norton said. “Do you know who the boy’s previous magical guardian was? They’d be the best starting point.”

Severus steeled himself.

“To my knowledge, it was Albus Dumbledore,” Severus said.

The implications sank in and the color drained from Norton’s face. To his credit, Norton cleared his throat, straightened in his chair, and pulled out a quill and parchment.

“That could prove an annoyance,” Norton observed. “I will find confirmation. If he was the previous magical guardian for Mr. Potter, I’ll have to inquire how he never noticed the abuse or why he placed Mr. Potter with muggles in the first place.”

“I can answer the latter question,” Severus said. “Petunia Dursley is the sister of Lily.”

“Ah, placement with blood relatives,” Norton said, stroking his mustache. “I suppose that would be a natural consideration, but it would still have been Dumbledore’s duty to periodically check in on the boy, not to mention ensuring someone read the Will.”

“If Dumbledore claims ignorance, what then?” Severus asked.

Norton stroked his mustache as he mulled over the question.

“It could complicate things. I must say, I’ve never had reason to sue Dumbledore. It’d be novel. In some ways, he’s more untouchable than the Minister. But we’d have a reason to sue on Mr. Potter’s behalf if Dumbledore neglected his duties. The public won’t react well to learn he kept their child hero in an abusive household when Dumbledore assured everyone that Potter had been well cared for,” Norton said.

Dread kissed up Severus’ spine. Dumbledore stood untouched by the efforts from various quarters to besmirch him and bring him down over the years. Men and women such as Lucius Malfoy, Octavia Burke, Barty Crouch Sr., Rita Skeeter, and more had all taken a crack at Dumbledore and all had failed. Severus had a fraction of their power and influence, but here he was, preparing to go toe to toe. All for Potter.

Severus took a fortifying breath. One step at a time. They still had to send out the inquiry. No use panicking before receiving Dumbledore’s reply.

Still, it would be wise to reach out to potential allies against Dumbledore.

“Is there anything else to discuss today?” Norton asked.

Severus took a biscuit for himself to give himself time to consider the question.

“I imagine Potter receives fan mail. I never saw any delivered to him during the year, so there must have been a redirection ward. We’ll need to ensure we receive everything the ward had previously redirected. Any mail cursed, hexed, or laced with potions should be forwarded to the aurors. Monetary gifts should be placed in Potter’s accounts. Toys and such can be donated to St. Mungo’s. If there are any other types of gifts Mr. Potter receives, we can review that on a case by case basis. I also don’t want Potter’s image in the papers. The _Daily Prophet_ published a picture of him this past Samhain. Mr. Potter deserves privacy while he is a minor,” Severus said.

Norton had been writing all this down, nodding as Severus spoke.

“Perfectly reasonable, Lord Prince. Anything else?” Norton asked. “I seem to recall spying a book about Mr. Potter’s exploits as a child the last time I took my granddaughter to Flourish and Blotts.”

Severus hummed.

“Check if the publisher had permission from Potter’s previous guardian to publish the books. If not, we’ll press them to stop at once and pay their back due recompense.” Severus stood, straightening his robes. “That should be enough to get us started. I imagine we’ll realize there is more to be done as we go along.”

Norton escorted Severus out of his office and the two men shook hands.

“I’ll look into the matters we discussed and let you know how things proceed,” Norton said.

“Thank you. Oh, and I’ve taken Heelhare House as my new residence, if you’d like to update your records,” Severus said.

“On it, sir,” Rosecliff said from behind his desk, “but before you go, an owl arrived with post addressed to you.”

Severus took the extended letter and examined the envelope. His eyebrows rose. It was from Madam Bones herself.

“All mail that enters the building goes through vigorous screenings for curses and the like,” Rosecliff said. “The letter is safe.”

Severus inclined his head. Rather than insulting his solicitor and casting more tests, Severus opened the envelope. He looked over the contents before tucking the letter away.

“Thank you, gentlemen, but it appears I have another appointment to attend,” Severus said.

“Will this meeting require legal assistance?” Norton asked.

Severus considered it briefly before nodding his head.

“If you have no other matters to attend, I would appreciate it. Madam Bones has requested a meeting regarding Mr. Potter. I don’t know her stance on matters, but from what I know, she won’t mind my arriving with my solicitor,” Severus said.

Norton nodded.

“Lead the way. Alex, see to it that my schedule’s rearranged as necessary if I’m not back in time for my afternoon appointments,” Norton said.

Severus nodded to both men and then stepped into the fireplace to floo to the Ministry.

...

Severus stepped up to the secretary’s desk. The woman – her brown hair starting to gray and dress in gray and lilac robes – looked up at Severus expectantly.

“My name is Severus Snape, and this is my solicitor, Timothy Norton. Madam Bones is expecting me,” he said.

The woman checked her schedule, nodding as she verified his information.

“Yes, you’re her next appointment. She hasn’t returned from lunch, but if you take a seat, she shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. She lunches early but she’s very punctual,” the secretary said, smiling at him.

Severus nodded, taking a seat. Norton settled beside him. The chairs were an uninspiring brown and as comfortable as they were attractive. Severus expected nothing less from a public area of the Ministry. He hoped Madam Bones, as the DMLE head, had better chairs in her office.

They sat around for two minutes before the sound of heels clicking against stone echoed from down the hall and drew closer. The secretary perked at the sound. Noting this, Severus stood and smoothed his robes in time for Madam Bones to step in from the hallway. Norton stood as well.

Madam Bones nodded at the pair.

“Mr. Snape. Thank you for meeting with me at such short notice,” Madam Bones said, shaking Severus’ hand. “Who might this be?”

“This is Timothy Norton, my solicitor. I didn’t know what you planned on discussing and thought his perspective may be of use,” Severus said.

Madam Bones looked grim but shook Norton’s hand. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it rarely is in my line of work. This way, gentlemen, if you’d please.”

She opened the door to her office and held it open for Severus and Norton.

The room held an air of authority. Its décor was close to spartan, utilitarian except for a single portrait of Madam Bones’ family and a paperweight shaped as a blooming rose. The furnishings were handsome without reaching garishness. There were no signs of Madam Bones’ personal accomplishments and accolades, even though Severus knew she’d acquired many over her years serving the Ministry.

“See I’m not disturbed,” Madam Bones said to her secretary before following the men into the office.

Severus and Norton each took a seat across from Madam Bones’ at her desk. She went and took her own seat, pulling out a casefile as she sat.

“Mr. Snape, I understand Mr. Potter has been placed under your guardianship after removal from an abusive household. Further, I’m told you’re the one who removed him from said environment. I’d like to hear what happened in your own words,” Madam Bones said. “I’m personally leading the investigation and prefer evidence from direct sources.”

Severus nodded.

“At the end of the school year, Mr. Potter paid me a visit. During it, he mentioned living with his Aunt Petunia. I knew both his mother and his aunt from childhood. His aunt, a muggle, hates magic. Knowing this, I became concerned and looked up his address. When I visited earlier this week, I found him starved, treated worse than a house elf, and bearing marks of being struck, amongst other signs of abuse. I removed him immediately. Given the time, I knew Family Services would be closed. I took him home with me. In the morning we went to the Ministry and discovered Lily and James’ Will had never been read. Upon reading it, I was named as Mr. Potter’s guardian,” Severus said.

Madam Bones’ lips had drawn into a thin line.

“Mr. Snape, Mr. Norton, are you aware of who Mr. Potter’s previous magical guardian was?” Madam Bones asked.

Severus drew in a slow breath as Norton shook his head.

“No. I have a few names I would suspect, but none were ever confirmed to me,” Severus said.

Madam Bones studied Severus.

“And if I told you it was Albus Dumbledore?”

Severus closed his eyes. It seemed he’d been holding onto the slim hope Dumbledore hadn't been involved with Harry Potter’s abusive circumstances. He felt a stab of betrayal at the idea of Dumbledore trampling over Severus’ guilt for a decade and knowingly leaving the child in the hands of abusers.

“I’d say I’m not surprised,” Severus said. “I had concerns about him being one of the potential guardians.”

“The care Mr. Potter received under Dumbledore’s supervision is of great concern. There’s no telling what the public will do when they discover as much when we bring this to the Wizengamot’s attention,” Madam Bones said.

Severus raised a brow even as Mr. Norton entered the conversation.

“Is it the public you’re concerned about? Are we to say nothing of what happened to Mr. Potter so that the public can remain appeased?” Mr. Norton asked, tone mild.

“Of course not,” Madam Bones said sharply. “It is merely something to prepare for. Justice is my main concern, let me assure you. Public image is irrelevant. However, there is also the matter that Dumbledore is your employer, Mr. Snape, and the headmaster at the school Mr. Potter attends. If he allowed Mr. Potter to be abused, it shall be an untenable situation.”

“Are you saying that you're working towards removing Dumbledore from Hogwarts?” Norton asked. “With Dumbledore as Mr. Potter’s previous guardian, his position as Headmaster creates a number of conflicts of interest if a suit were brought forward against his actions.”

Madam Bones spread her hands.

“Dumbledore’s position as Headmaster is something the Ministry does not have authority over. We will have to discuss matters with Hogwarts' Board of Governors. There’s a chance they won’t want to deal with the scandal this will cause and may sack Dumbledore to save their own necks. I’ll certainly present them several reasons to have him at least suspended while this is sorted out. That's without you petitioning for Dumbledore's removal yourselves."

Norton gave Bones his solicitor's smile.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. My client isn't interested in striking out against a colleague without any proof. Dumbledore may be innocent of all these conjectures," Norton said.

Bones snorted.

"And I read the Quibbler for its factual excellence." She sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring into the middle distance. "Albus has been a colleague for a long time, and as aggravating as he can be, I hadn't thought him capable of such. The fallout from this will rock the nation."

Severus shifted in his seat.

“We are speaking as though a scandal is a pre-gone conclusion,” Severus said. “Is there no hope to handle this quietly, to not expose Mr. Potter to further trauma? I understand my ward is famous, but he is still a minor."

Madam Bones adjusted her glasses and closed her eyes briefly.

“Will we do everything in our power to keep this quiet? Absolutely. However, this will take extensive work to get to the bottom of things. The more people involved, the more likely someone will run to the _Prophet_ or some other paper. This is Harry Potter, after all. And to top it off, the Board of Governors will need an explanation for the public as to why they suspended Dumbledore, if that is the course of action they take,” Madam Bones said.

Norton turned towards Severus, his eyebrows drawn down and the corner of his mouth turned down in a frown.

“Unfortunately, there are two aspects to this scandal that would make people spill secrets: first, Harry Potter is involved, and second, we are discussing the possible removal of Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts,” Norton said. “Any scandal makes lips looser, but when people like Dumbledore and the Boy-Who-Lived are involved? I’d be shocked if this didn’t get out.”

Severus sighed.

“I understand that, but I think the effort should still be made. He is not yet twelve, and we are discussing having his life drug through the headlines,” Severus said.

Madam Bones nodded, face grim. “The boy’s faced more difficulties than any child should have to. Don’t mistake me, Mr. Snape. I will do everything in my power to keep this quiet. I have to be realistic, however, and plan for the strong likelihood that someone will leak this to the papers.”

Severus bowed his head, acknowledging that he couldn’t ask more from her. Beside him, Norton turned his attention to Madam Bones, straightening in his seat.

“Now, is there anything else we can assist you with today, Madam Bones? We’re glad to provide whatever help you need,” Norton said.

Bones pulled out parchment, ink, and a quill.

“I’d like Mr. Snape’s written testimony, as well as fresh copies of his memories relevant to Mr. Potter’s case. I could get a copy of the set down in Family Services, but the quality deteriorates with each subsequent copy,” Madam Bones said.

“Of course,” Severus said.

They spent the next half hour extracting Severus’ memories, writing his testimony, and answering Bones' questions clarifying what she’d seen. At the end, Madam Bones shook both Severus’ and Norton’s hands.

“Thank you, gentlemen, and especially you, Mr. Snape,” Madam Bones said. “I understand how taxing these things can be, and I appreciate the zeal with which you’re helping the DMLE get to the bottom of this.”

Severus inclined his head.

“If Dumbledore gives you trouble for your cooperation, come and let me know,” Madam Bones said. “I cannot do anything about his placement in Hogwarts, but any retaliation against a witness would fall within the DMLE’s jurisdiction.”

Norton harrumphed.

“If Dumbledore gives my client trouble, he shall have me to contend with before you,” Norton said.

Madam Bones gave a curt nod. “Let us hope it does not come to that.”

Severus thought of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, of the conversation Severus would later have with Lucius, of Albus’ hand in Potter’s abuse, and Severus’ preparations to go to battle for the boy.

Severus smiled at the other two in the room.

“I highly doubt the Headmaster and I will end up at odds that badly,” Severus said.

Madam Bones still looked grim, but she returned Severus’ smile as Norton gave Severus a speculative glance. Severus caught Norton's eye, conveying with a look to allow the matter to drop. Norton still had a speculative look about him, but as a lawyer, knew when to keep his mouth shut. Norton nodded minutely to Severus and allowed the matter to pass.

“At the end of the day, I still believe that Albus is a good man,” Madam Bones said. “I’ve known him for years, and he’s always been a staunch foundation for the Light.”

Madam Bones took a deep breath before standing.

“I won’t keep you gentlemen from your schedules any longer. I appreciate both of you coming at such short notice,” Madam Bones said. “Shall I owl for both of you in the future?”

Severus nodded. “I believe it would be best for Mr. Norton to be present.”

Bones nodded sharply. “Consider it done. I’ll owl both of you when I have anything further to discuss.”

Severus and Norton shook hands with Madam Bones, who saw them out of her office. The pair walked through the building and shook hands themselves before each took the Floo to their respective destinations. 

And so began the fall of Albus Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, LMAO, let me just say: you're all vicious.
> 
> I posted last week with Severus leaving Sirius in Azkaban and I'd been worried how it'd be received, like, "ok, it's not the right thing to do, but here's why Severus does it and revenge doesn't make it ok but he was in character and I KNOW Sirius is innocent of betraying Lily & James but that doesn't mean Sev will suddenly be warm and fuzzy..."
> 
> And then I got the comments from this past week and the majority consensus was: "Yes! Let Sirius rot!" 
> 
> I just found it amusing, so I thought I'd share.
> 
> Lots of love ❤ - Ramblings


	8. Visitors

Harry had worked on his homework for an hour or two, writing on why transfigurations of objects with similar masses were easier to perform, when Flootsy popped in and announced she’d finished cleaning Harry’s room and had left his trunk at the foot of the bed.

“If Harry goes upstairs, Flootsy can send the homework to the desk in Harry's room,” Flootsy said.

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks,” Harry said, getting up.

Harry ran upstairs. By the time he’d gotten to his room, Flootsy had already made his homework appear on the desk in his new room. Harry put his homework supplies away in the various drawers before turning his attention to his trunk. He hung his new clothes in the wardrobe and then went through his knick knacks to figure out where to store them.

Though miffed earlier at the need to repack immediately after settling in at Spinner's End, Harry didn’t mind anymore. Normally, he’d have been doing chores for several hours already if he’d been at the Dursleys. Harry could tolerate unpacking again.

Harry snorted when he realized that beside the tans and creams, his room was decorated predominantly in Slytherin green. His Gryffindor things stood out against the greens and blues of the room. He had his scarf, a flag with a roaring lion, and a red blanket Harry had acquired sometime during the winter but that he couldn’t remember where it’d come from.

Harry considered if he could ask to change the colors to something less Slytherin, but he discarded the thought. Perhaps it went a bit against House pride, but Harry liked the room as it was. He also doubted Uncle Severus would allow a room in his home turned Gryffindor red.

With that thought, Harry glanced at his Gryffindor belongings uncertainly. His and Uncle Severus’ relationship remained tenuous. Reminding Uncle Severus that Harry belonged in Gryffindor may not be Harry’s smartest choice. Should he put his Gryffindor things away to not upset Uncle Severus? Maybe he would just never come into Harry’s room. But knowing Uncle Severus didn’t like Gryffindors, what did that mean for Harry?

Harry knew if Ron were there Ron would tell Harry to ignore the greasy git and decorate it however Harry wanted, or Snape could bugger off. Ron, however, hadn’t written to Harry all summer. Neither had Hermione, who’d tell Harry the same thing as Ron but in a polite way. But they hadn’t written, so in the end, their opinions didn’t count.

Now a bit miserable, Harry sat down to do his homework again.

After another half hour with Harry unenthusiastically plugging away at his homework, there came a knock at the door.

“Hello?” Harry called.

The door opened, revealing Uncle Severus. He surveying the room, raising an eyebrow as he took everything in, glowering.

“Are there any changes to the décor that you would like?” Uncle Severus asked.

Was that his way of telling Harry to get rid of his Gryffindor items? 

Hesitant, Harry shook his head. “I like it the way it is.”

Uncle Severus swept his gaze around the room again, still sour, before nodding.

“If there is something you’d like changed, tell me and I will determine if the change is doable,” Uncle Severus said. 

Uncle Severus gestured towards the door. 

"Given the state of Heelhare House, I thought it prudent to order take-away," he said.

“Yes sir,” Harry said. “What did you get for lunch?”

Uncle Severus shook his head.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I haven’t ordered. Is there a type of restaurant you prefer? We’ll have to make sure whatever we get is mild for your stomach, though I think it’s holding up well. I will tell you now, however, that I will not order from any muggle fast food chains,” Uncle Severus said.

“I’ve never eaten from a restaurant before,” Harry admitted, flushing as he said the words.

From his peripheral vision, Harry saw Uncle Severus open his mouth to ask a question and then close it. Harry didn’t look up, afraid to see the expression on Uncle Severus’ face. The Dursleys had never wasted money on a freak like Harry. So far, Uncle Severus had held different views than the Dursleys on things like furniture and clothes. Harry hoped he had different views about restaurants too.

All this, despite the fact Harry suspected Uncle Severus still didn’t like Harry. Harry didn’t want to risk seeing Uncle Severus’ expression the moment he decided the Dursleys had had the right of it.

“No Englishman should live without experiencing a good curry,” Uncle Severus said. “Did your aunt and uncle ever have Indian food?”

Harry shook his head. “They weren’t enthusiastic about cuisine that didn’t originate in Europe.”

Uncle Severus’ lips curled into a sneer. It made Harry flinch, and in the next moment the expression disappeared.

“Well, if you’re unfamiliar with the cuisine, tikka masala is a good beginner’s dish,” Uncle Severus said. “Would that work for you?”

Harry shrugged. “You know better than I would.”

Snape nodded.

“That’s what I’ll order for you then. I’ll send Flootsy up when food arrives. We’ll eat in the kitchen.” Uncle Severus turned to leave, but hesitated. “Have you informed the youngest Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger of your new accommodations?”

Harry glared at the floor. “No.”

Uncle Severus leaned against the doorjamb, studying Harry.

“A surprising development, considering how inseparable the three of you were during the school year. I’d have imagined you held no secrets between the three of you. Why ever have you not informed them?” Harry could hear the raised eyebrow in the question.

“I wrote them at the start of summer. Multiple times. They never wrote back,” Harry said, voice strained as he kept control of his emotions.

Uncle Severus frowned. “That sounds uncharacteristic of them, given how close the three of you are.”

Harry stared at the ground and shrugged. He heard Uncle Severus sigh, sounding exasperated.

“Owl them one more time. Perhaps the wards the Headmaster placed around your relatives’ home interfered,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry looked up from the floor at Uncle Severus with a skeptical expression but nodded once.

"Okay," he said.

“I suggest writing them soon to organize an in-person meeting. Don’t mention your new living situation via owl. As trustworthy as I’m sure your owl is, correspondence can be intercepted,” Uncle Severus said.

“I’ll write the letter and send it off before lunch.”

Harry didn’t believe the reasons Uncle Severus had given. He doubted Uncle Severus believed them either, but Harry would write the letters anyways and send them off to avoid angering Uncle Severus. That, and as unlikely as the explanation, Uncle Severus’ words bloomed a small bit of hope in Harry’s chest.

Uncle Severus left, closing the door behind him. Harry sighed, but pulled out parchment to write Ron and Hermione. He dithered for a while, wondering what to say. He wrote several drafts, before settling on sending quick messages to both of them, requesting meeting soon. Harry didn’t know which day would work best for Uncle Severus, so he asked them when they were available. If they bothered replying, he’d count it as a success.

Harry sealed the messages into envelopes and called Flootsy, who popped in and took the letters to the owlery. He gave her the letters without enthusiasm.

Harry turned back to his homeworkand worked on it until Flootsy popped in not long after.

“Lunch arrived and is in the kitchen,” Flootsy said.

“Thanks, Flootsy,” Harry said, getting up from his desk and stretching.

Flootsy flashed a smile before popping out of the room.

Harry made his way downstairs and retraced his steps to the kitchen. Uncle Severus already awaited, dishing food onto plates. Harry paused to sniff the air, liking what he smelled. Uncle Severus glanced in Harry’s direction.

“Don’t sniff around like a beast, Potter,” Uncle Severus said. “Come sit down.”

Harry crossed the room and took a seat. Uncle Severus placed a dish in front of Harry. Meat in some sort of reddish-orange sauce nestled between flat bread and rice.

“Thank you,” Harry murmured.

“Of course. If the chicken upsets your stomach, focus on eating the naan and the rice,” Uncle Severus said. He took his seat opposite Harry and tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it into the sauce of his dish. “Eat, Harry.”

Harry didn’t wait, sampling everything on his plate. He groaned around a piece of meat. Uncle Severus snorted.

“Try to remember your manners, Potter. You weren’t raised in a barn. While there is something to enjoying one’s meal, one should maintain the proper table decorum as they do so.” Uncle Severus’ sounded caught between annoyed and, perhaps, a dry amusement.

“It’s really, really good, sir,” Harry said, sheepish. “Are all restaurants this good?”

A shadow passed over Uncle Severus' face before clearing.

“No, there are many far worse, but there are also a good number that are better. This is the best Indian restaurant I know of,” Uncle Severus said. “The owner also happens to be a squib, so this is the only Indian restaurant catering to wizarding Great Britain.”

“I think I like Indian, sir,” Harry said.

Uncle Severus inclined his head. “I keep that in mind when planning future meals.”

Harry gave him a bit of a disbelieving smile. After the Dursleys, Harry couldn’t imagine someone planning meals because Harry would enjoy it. Still, Harry thought it would be rude to remark on it, so he thanked Uncle Severus and restrained from making any more sounds.

The pair tucked into their meals and nothing more of note happened until they’d finished eating and were ready to leave the table. That’s when Flootsy popped into the kitchen holding another house-elf by the ear. She looked thunderous as the strange elf struggled and squealed, unable to escape Flootsy’s grip.

“Master Severus sir! Flootsy caught this elf –” here, Flootsy gave a sharp tug on the other elf’s ear, “– stealing Mr. Harry's letters at the border of Heelhare House’s wards. Flootsy kept the bad elf in the pantry until you finishes lunch.”

Harry’s eyes bulged while Uncle Severus frowned at the elf. The house-elf had been stealing Harry’s letters? The bloom of hope that Uncle Severus had planted grew. If his letters were being stolen, then maybe his friends had tried writing and the letters hadn’t gotten through because of the strange house-elf. Maybe they hadn’t abandoned Harry.

“You look familiar,” Uncle Severus said, staring at the elf.

The unknown elf’s eyes widened and his protests directed at Flootsy sputtered and died. The strange house-elf shook his head.

“We have not mets before, sir,” the house-elf said.

Uncle Severus’ eyes narrowed. Then –

“Dobby.”

The strange house-elf paled and closed his eyes, moaning over-dramatically. He then tried to hurl himself from Flootsy’s grip to bang his head against the table. Harry scrambled back in alarm, but Flootsy pulled Dobby away from the table after he’d only gotten one good whack against his head.

“Bad Dobby, bad Dobby,” the elf muttered.

Harry watched in horror. He glanced at Uncle Severus, who appeared neither surprised nor phased. Flootsy, for her part, had a distasteful expression.

“Cease this at once. It is unbefitting your position. You obeyed your masters and got caught. It’s hardly surprising, since few elves are as competent as Flootsy. Cease the melodramatics. Now. You belong to the Malfoys,” Uncle Severus stated.

Harry reeled back, alarmed how Uncle Severus’ ignored Dobby's behavior, implying that Dobby behaved normally. Flootsy, meanwhile, glowed from Uncle Severus’ praise.

Uncle Severus continued. “I am surprised that they put you up to harming Harry. They should have known about the protections Harry would be under now. Lucius’ network is slipping if whispers haven’t reached his ears of Mr. Potter’s new living arrangements.”

Harry looked over at Uncle Severus, his brain moving on from Dobby and catching up with the rest of what had been said. Malfoy? Had Draco been stealing Harry’s mail? The thought churned Harry’s stomach. Harry hadn’t written anything especially personal, but neither did Harry want Draco snooping through letters intended for Harry’s friends. The git had probably laughed all summer at Harry's letters.

If possible, Dobby paled even further.

“No!” The elf squeaked. “Masters are not being aware of what Dobby has been doing. You mustn’t be telling them, Mr. Potions Master!”

Flootsy made a noise of disgust, but Uncle Severus raised a single eyebrow. Harry looked back and forth between them as the silence stewed.

Finally, Dobby cracked.

“Dobby wasn’t hurting Harry Potter. Dobby is trying to _save_ Harry Potter. Harry Potter mustn’t go back to Hogwarts,” Dobby said.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. “Why wouldn’t I want to go back to Hogwarts?”

Uncle Severus leaned forward.

“What I want to know is what this threat is that you’re protecting him from,” Uncle Severus said, voice glacial.

Dobby cowered from Uncle Severus.

“Dobby can’t say,” Dobby said. “Dobby is saving the great Harry Potter’s life.”

Unvle Severus' eye twitched when Donny called Harry _great_.

“You can't keep me from Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Hogwarts is my home. That’s where my friends are.”

Dobby gave Harry with a sly look.

“Friends who don’t write Harry Potter?” Dobby asked.

Harry flushed, embarrassed and smarting from the lack of communication. Before he could say anything, though, Flootsy _snarled_ and shook Dobby.

“That is because you _stole_ those letters!” Flootsy said. “You are trying to protect Harry Potter, but you are hurting him instead!”

Dobby struggled but couldn’t break her grip.

“Dobby is saving Harry Potter!” Dobby insisted.

“From what, Dobby?” Uncle Severus asked.

Dobby’s mouth clicked shut, making Uncle Severus give an impatient growl.

“You’ve failed, Dobby. We now know you’re the one stealing Harry’s letters, that there is danger coming, and that the Malfoys are involved. You have nothing to gain from keeping this a secret,” Severus said.

Dobby wailed but shook his head.

“Dobby is a bad elf. Dobby can’t say more, sir,” Dobby cried.

“Do the Malfoys like you, Dobby?” Uncle Severus asked.

“No sir, Dobby is a bad elf,” Dobby said.

“Would they miss you if you disappeared and never returned?” Uncle Severus asked silkily.

Harry eyed Uncle Severus as Dobby descended into inarticulate cries. Harry remembered, now, why it had been easy to believe Uncle Severus had tried to murder him last year. From the sounds of it, Uncle Severus was planning another murder as they spoke.

Harry wouldn’t allow that, even if Uncle Severus had saved Harry from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

“We’re not going to hurt him,” Harry said, glaring at Uncle Severus.

Uncle Severus turned from Dobby to glare back at Harry.

“Stay out of this, Potter,” Snape said.

“You can’t kill him,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

Dobby wailed anew.

“I will remind you that I am the adult and responsible for your safety. You may not care much for your own safety, what with the stunt you and your little friends played at the end of the year, but it is my duty to do so. You will stand by and _be silent_ as I make sure nothing untoward is going on,” Snape said.

Snape’s glaring had intensified throughout the conversation. If Harry hadn’t already spent years being glared at for no reason by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, it would have been enough to make him cave to Snape’s demands.

“We’re not hurting him,” Harry said instead.

Snape sneered.

“Flootsy, kindly take Mr. Potter to his room. I will deal with him after I’ve dealt with our guest,” Snape said.

Flootsy gave a tug on Dobby.

“He will try to leave, sir, if Flootsy lets go,” Flootsy said.

Snape took out his wand, pointed it at Dobby, and cast a complex spell Harry couldn’t follow. Flootsy let go of Dobby, who stood cowering in front of Snape. Flootsy walked over to Harry, who backed away from her.

“Flootsy, we can’t let him hurt someone,” Harry said.

Flootsy gave Harry a sympathetic look but grabbed his arm anyways. A moment later, the pair of them were in Harry’s new room. She patted his arm.

“Master Severus won’t kill the Dobby elf. Master Severus is scaring information from him,” Flootsy said.

“He didn’t look like he’d just scare Dobby,” Harry said. “We need to go make sure nothing happens.”

Flootsy smiled at Harry.

“You are a good person, Harry,” she said. “But Flootsy is not letting you out of the room until Master Severus says. Your door won’t be working.”

Before Harry could protest, Flootsy disappeared. Harry hoped she’d gone down to supervise Snape even if she didn’t seem inclined to interfere.

Despite what Flootsy had said, Harry went over to his door and tried opening it. True to the house-elf’s words, the door didn’t budge. Harry kicked it.

He knelt on the floor and pressed his ear to the floorboards. He couldn’t hear anything.

Harry stood and started pacing. He wouldn’t be able to sit still until he knew what had happened to Dobby. He wasn’t happy the elf had stolen his mail all summer, but that didn’t mean he wanted Snape to torture Dobby or kill him.

After an eternity and a half, Harry heard the click of the lock and the door opened to reveal Snape in the doorway. Snape’s expression stormed the way it did right before he assigned an especially horrid detention. Harry stopped pacing and faced Snape, who strode in and slammed the door.

“What did you do to him?” Harry demanded.

“Be _silent_ ,” Snape hissed. “You will listen to me and show respect for once in your life.”

Harry glowered at Snape and crossed his arms. So. Snape’s change of heart since the Dursley’s had ended. Harry’d thought it too good to be true.

“I never intended to kill that infernal elf, boy,” Snape said.

Harry knew his disbelief showed on his face.

“But you said –”

“Of course that’s what I said. I wanted to scare the elf so he’d tell us what was so dangerous that you shouldn’t return to Hogwarts. We needed that information. I wouldn’t have killed him!” Snape yelled.

Harry breathed rapidly, blinking at his guardian-professor. Harry felt relieved for the strange elf, but Snape’s face remained furious. This was the point where Uncle Vernon would box Harry’s ears or hit him in some other way before stuffing him in the cupboard. But this was Snape. Short tempered and ill mannered, like Uncle Vernon, but able to use magic. Harry’s throat clenched as he realized he was about to discover how adults punished children in the magical world. Harry knew Snape would be creative.

Harry shied away, already anticipating the blows or whatever horrid things Snape would do to him.

Snape had gotten into a torrent of yelling about how he’d been handling the situation and Harry needed to respect his betters and prove he wasn’t a spoiled rotter, but Snape cut off his spiel mid-sentence. He narrowed his eyes and glared down at Harry.

“Potter, you’re shaking,” Snape said.

Harry noticed then that, yes, he was trembling like a leaf in autumn when the breeze snatched it from its branch. The realization made Harry tremble harder.

Snape stared at Harry, evaluating him as though judging the worth of a beetle carapace for a potion.

“Are you going to make me scrub cauldrons, or do you have different punishments in the summer?” Harry asked.

The words came out tight, small, and a touch scared. Harry felt aghast that he’d even voiced the question. Why did he have to invite the punishment to come sooner? He hoped, _he hoped_ that Snape’s punishments would be the same as the detentions Harry’d served during the school year.

Snape’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Harry. Harry stood, frozen under his gaze. Snape looked thunderous, and normally wouldn’t hesitate to unleash that storm down upon Harry. That Snape reeled it in made Harry nervous. Deviations from expected behavior were dangerous.

“What punishment would you suggest, Potter?”

And oh, what a devious trick. Harry couldn’t answer a question like that correctly. This had been a favorite trick of Aunt Petunia’s too. If Harry suggested too light a punishment, Snape could call him on it and do something even worse. If Harry suggested something too harsh, Harry’d have no room to complain about the punishment, as it would have been Harry who'd suggested it in the first place.

A hand grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulder, and he flinched backwards. He’d have fallen if the hand hadn’t kept Harry in place.

“Breath, Potter. You’re hyperventilating,” Snape said.

Harry stared at Snape with wide eyes, not understanding. Harry’d never heard the word, except while passing the TV on his way to do chores. He stood, trembling and trying to breathe, the air in the room not reaching his lungs. 

Snape made an exasperated sound.

“Breath with me, Potter, and never speak of this to anyone,” Snape said.

Snape drew in long, overexaggerated breaths, bringing Harry’s hand to Snape’s chest so Harry could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Harry copied as best he could, staring at Snape’s nose intently, an exceedingly odd experience. Harry had trouble keeping time to Snape’s breathing at first, but as a minute slipped into two into three, tension bled from Harry’s muscles and his breath fell into Snape’s rhythm. Snape released his hold of Harry’s shoulder and stepped back.

Snape took the armchair in Harry’s room and summoned over the chair at Harry’s desk. A transfiguration later, and an identical armchair sat across from Snape’s. Snape inclined his head at the new armchair. Harry collapsed onto it with wobbly legs.

The two sat in silence. It felt like Snape wanted Harry to say something. Harry, for his part, had no clue what that something might be. The silence stretched like taffy, pulled tighter and growing thinner, until at last it broke apart.

“How would you normally be punished for something like this?” Snape asked.

Harry gulped and looked away. He didn’t want to give Snape ideas, but he couldn’t avoid answering a direct question either.

“I’d be sent to my cup- to my room. I’d not get to eat for a day or two, probably. Uncle Vernon would take his belt to me. Aunt Petunia would find a nasty chore for me.” Harry shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

Snape leaned forward on his chair, staring at Harry intensely. Harry shifted, nervous. Snape didn’t look angry, per se, but he had been yelling a minute before.

“Harry.”

Harry forced himself to meet Snape’s eye.

“You will not be punished like that. If you are denied food, it will be your pudding. Depriving you of meals is not an acceptable form of punishment. I will never strike you. When you are punished here, it might take the form of not being allowed on the next excursion you have planned with friends. I may make you do some unpleasant chores, but I will make sure you will have the proper and necessary equipment. I may confiscate something, such as your broom. I may even assign you lines,” Snape said. “I know I have a short temper, and we do not get along. I will do my best for you, however. I will never pose a threat to your physical safety. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry had had to look away part way through the speech, but at the end of it, he glanced back. Snape still perched on the edge of his seat, appearing intent and honest.

“What – what about magic? Spells and potions?” Harry asked.

Snape’s face wrinkled in confusion before understanding lit in his eyes and he recoiled.

“No,” Snape said. “I will not use my magic to punish you, except perhaps to ensure you stay in your room or some such. I will not use magic to harm you, much as I promise not to hit you.”

The idea seemed strange, but Harry nodded.

“What’s going to happen this time?” Harry asked.

Snape’s lips thinned, but he didn’t explode at Harry.

“Were it not for the fact that your letters had been stolen all summer, I’d forbid speaking with your friends. As it is, we should seek to reassure them that you’re well. I'd rather not have a pair of twelve year olds breaking down my door. Since that is not a suitable punishment, I shall have you writing lines instead. Do you have parchment?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded towards his desk. Snape crossed over to it and turned towards Harry, gesturing at the closed drawers.

“May I?” Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like you won’t go through it if I say no.”

Snape frowned at him and didn’t make a move towards opening a drawer.

“No, I shall not. I have no reason to suspect you are hiding anything dangerous or illegal from me. Unless I believe you are hiding something like that, I will not invade your privacy any more than I’d strike you. Therefore, if you do not wish me to go through your drawers, I shall allow you to fetch the parchment yourself. Would you prefer that?” Snape asked.

Harry eyed Snape, wondering at his sincerity. Best not to gauge that, with Snape already testy. Harry shook his head and waved at the drawers.

“Go ahead,” Harry said.

Snape nodded and turned back towards the desk. He riffled through until he’d found parchment, quill, and ink. Snape wrote a line across the top of the parchment and left everything ready atop the desk. He turned back towards Harry.

“I want a hundred lines by supper. In the meantime, I shall have Flootsy send your letters out again. There shall be no interference this time,” Snape said.

Harry nodded, upset that he’d managed to get what amounted to detention on his second day of living with Snape.

Snape strode across the room and turned in the doorway to face Harry.

“Do you need anything before I go?” Snape asked. “I want you to stay in here until the lines are complete.”

Harry examined the room, then stood up from his armchair.

“If you’d return my desk chair to normal?”

Snape pulled out his wand and undid the transfiguration.

“Anything else?”

Harry shook his head. Snape nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry sighed, knowing it could have gone worse. He dragged the chair back to the desk. Harry took the parchment Snape had written on and smoothed it out, examining what had been written across the top: _I shall trust and obey my guardian and his judgement_.

Harry snorted. As if that would ever be true. 

Nevertheless, Harry settled down and dipped his quill in the ink before scratching out the words Snape wanted him to write. It felt ridiculous, writing words Harry had never believed of _any_ guardian, let alone Snape. Snape possessed a foul temper and had been unfair to Harry since they’d met. Of all the adults in Harry’s life...

Of all the adults in Harry’s life, only Snape had intervened for Harry, even if it had only been a few days now since rescuing Harry from the Dursleys.

But no, that wasn’t true either. Snape had looked out for Harry all first year as Snape guarded Harry against Quirrell.

Harry’s stomach squelched at the thought of the dead man – _skin crackling and screams as Quirrell broke apart_ – and Harry dug his hands into his hair, tugging on it as he forced himself to remember Snape’s words to Harry at the end of the school year. Quirrell had already been as good as dead.

Harry kept tugging at his hair, repeating what Snape had told him about Quirrell and it not being Harry’s fault. Then Harry remembered how the last time he’d felt like this, Uncle Severus had made Harry breath slowly with him, like Snape had done a little earlier. Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember the rate at which Snape had breathed, as Harry attempted to do the same on his own.

When he felt calm, Harry picked up the quill he’d dropped to the floor in his distress and started again on his lines. With it, his thoughts turned back to Snape. Uncle Severus had protected Harry – multiple times. He’d gotten Harry new clothes, too. He’d been angry with Harry, but he’d not hit Harry or taken away his food.

Uncle Severus was not a nice man by any stretch of the word, but maybe the lines Harry had to write weren’t untrue either.

Harry wrote until his assigned lines were completed. When finished, he put down his quill and stared at the parchment as he shook his hand to keep it from cramping. A strange, unsettled feeling lurked in his stomach as he stared at the words, as if one side of his stomach had dropped down an inch but the other had remained in place.

Harry jerked his head away from the parchment, grabbing it with one hand and heading for the door. He made his way downstairs and stopped, not sure where to go to find Uncle Severus.

“Flootsy?” Harry called.

She appeared in front of him.

“Do you know where Uncle Severus is?” Harry asked.

“He is setting up his office,” Flootsy said. “Flootsy can show you the way.”

“Thanks, that'd be a big help. . The house doesn’t happen to come with a map, does it?” Harry asked.

Flootsy laughed, head thrown back. She motioned for Harry to follow her and walked down the hall in the opposite direction of the kitchen.

“You will catch on soon enough. Maybe you should explore after dinner,” Flootsy said.

They reached the hallway leading to the room where Harry and Uncle Severus had first arrived at Heelhare House. Flootsy stopped in front of a door in the exact middle of the hall. Flootsy knocked. It opened a crack, but Harry couldn’t see anyone. Flootsy waved at Harry to step in. After a moment’s hesitation, he obeyed.

Books were flying around, putting themselves away on shelves. There were a few bottles of various liquids. One looked like it held ink, but Harry didn’t want to guess what the rest of the bottles contained.

Uncle Severus stood bent over the desk, inspecting a few pieces of paper. He looked up towards Harry. His eyes traveled down to the parchment Harry clutched and nodded towards it.

“Finished then?” Uncle Severus asked.

Harry nodded hesitantly. He hadn’t ever been punished like this before – not outside of school – and wasn’t sure if a protocol existed for this that everyone else knew about because they’d grown up in a normal home.

Uncle Severus frowned at Harry, noting Harry’s hesitation.

“If you’re lying, I won’t be pleased,” Uncle Severus said.

Harry scowled and held out the parchment.

“Here. I wrote them all,” Harry said.

Uncle Severus returned the scowl and snatched the parchment from Harry’s hand. Harry watched as Uncle Severus scanned the paper, counting the lines Harry had written. Finally, Uncle Severus set the parchment down.

“You have managed to comply with your punishment,” Uncle Severus said.

Uncle Severus didn’t sound particularly pleased. Harry stood, bracing himself. If Uncle Severus remained unsatisfied, did that mean there’d be an additional punishment? Or would Harry be punished for something else, something supposedly unrelated?

Then, the emotion slid off Uncle Severus’ face.

“Tomorrow, we will go over the rules of the household. For tonight, conduct yourself as though this were Hogwarts.” Here, Uncle Severus’ stern expression returned. “So long as you don’t cause mischief, and make the first year’s curfew, I will leave you to your own devices tonight while I get things settled. If I must correct you, I will not be pleased.”

Harry nodded, relieved. Uncle Severus studied Harry a moment before he sighed.

“Try to remember, Potter, that I am not your previous guardians. I will not abuse you like your aunt and uncle did.” Here, Harry shifted uncomfortably. Best not to think about things like that. “And while we have not gotten along before, know this: I will always work to protect you. You have grown in an environment where you had to fend for yourself. That is no longer the case. You may not always understand the course of action I take, but it will always be for your benefit. Remember that, the next time you are presented with circumstances you do not understand.”

He murmured a goodnight to Uncle Severus, who nodded in acknowledgement even as he turned back to his papers and books, Harry shutting the office door.

And like that, Harry’s punishment had finished. It felt unreal. It had been so easy, but it looked like Uncle Severus wouldn’t demand further punishment.

Harry decided not to press his good fortune. He’d be alert for the next few days, in case Uncle Severus was lulling Harry into a false sense of security. Uncle Vernon had done that a few times when Harry was little. Dudley had found it endlessly amusing.

Harry set off to explore Heelhare, still contemplating Uncle Severus and the Dursleys. He had parts of it mapped out in his head already in the parts needed to get between the kitchen and his bedroom, but he wanted the lay of the land. Knowing one’s environment for potential hidey-holes had been important at the Dursleys and not knowing the lay of the land at Heelhare made Harry uneasy.

When he tried opening the door that Harry suspected led to the basement, he found it locked, so he explored the ground floor first. Aside from the Receiving Room, kitchen, and dining room, the first floor also had a library, and a parlor. Harry thought the parlor too stuffy, more so than even Aunt Petunia’s living room, with furniture that looked like it would have been kept under plastic if that was the sort of thing used in the wizarding world. Harry much preferred the library, that while not as extensive as Hogwarts’ still took up more space than Harry’d ever seen in a private home. Though, given that he’d only ever been at the Dursleys’ and Mrs. Figgs’ homes before, that wasn’t saying much. He idly wondered how much drool Hermione would get over everything if she were to ever see the room.

The first floor had Uncle Severus’ office, which Harry walked past quickly, a drawing room, a music room, and a billiard room. Harry poked his head into all the rooms aside from Uncle Severus’ office, but didn’t think he’d ever spend much time there. The music room might hold potential, though. At least the instruments in the glass case on the far wall looked interesting. 

The second floor was the floor with all the bedrooms, so Harry skipped that one. On the third lay what appeared to be a room meant for some sort of combat purpose, which filled Harry’s head with all sorts of visions of epic duels. Another room on that floor held what Harry thought someone might have once made wands in, given the many sticks and what Harry thought were wand cores, all covered in dust but still subtly humming with magic. Harry ran a gentle hand over the materials with reverence, admiring the sensations the materials sent up his arm even without being part of a fully formed wand.

The fourth floor held what looked like another parlor, this one homier than the one on the ground level. Harry thought maybe this one had been for the Prince family’s private use, rather than a place to meet guests. The fourth floor also had a gigantic conservatory. Part of it was garden, which Harry suspected would soon be overtaken with Potions ingredients, but another good portion was wide open space, where it looked a few children could run about in outdoor games all without leaving the confines of Heelhare House. He wouldn’t be able to fly in the space, but Harry thought he’d still enjoy spending time up there. An earthy smell hung in the air from the garden space, and Harry could press himself up against the glass and watch muggle London pass by below, Heelhare protected by what Harry assumed were the same charms that kept the Leaky from detection.

Harry tried to picture himself in the different rooms he’d explored, wondering if in a house as big as Heelhare whether Uncle Severus would expect Harry to stay out of the older man’s way. It’s what the Dursleys would have wanted, but Uncle Severus didn’t seem to have much in common with them.

True, he didn’t like Harry, but Uncle Severus seemed determined to set aside his dislike for Harry. Harry didn’t believe Uncle Severus would ever treat Harry like one of his beloved Slytherins, but Uncle Severus’ treatment seemed to have improved since taking Harry from the Dursleys. Life with Uncle Severus might be... good.

Harry set off to go exploring, marveling at the weirdness of his life.

...

The next morning, Severus and his new ward were finishing breakfast when Flootsy walked in with Harry’s snowy owl – Helga? Hilde? – circling over her head. The owl had several letters and Severus watched Harry’s face light up, Lily’s eyes sparkling. Pain stabbed Severus and he turned away as the boy cooed over his owl and the letters she’d brought.

Flootsy handed Severus a stack of his own correspondence. He nodded to her and flipped through the envelopes. Severus usually had a few pieces, given his status as Lord Prince, but today brought more correspondence than usual. He paused on the envelope addressed from Lucius Malfoy. The rumor mill had whispered in Lucius’ ear about Potter. There was also a letter from Madam Bones.

Flootsy cleared her throat.

“Master Snape, sir. You have a guest in the Receiving Room. He insists on seeing you right away,” Flootsy said.

Severus raised an eyebrow. To demand a lord’s presence in his own home spoke of both a supreme arrogance as well as a willingness to flagrantly ignore common decorum. Only one person possessed both traits.

Severus glanced at Harry. It wouldn’t do to alert the boy of Albus’ presence. Flootsy had done well to not mention the Headmaster by name.

“Harry, I have a guest to see to. Will you be content to writing your friends in your room? I am not sure who the guest is or what matters they wish to discuss. It may be a delicate subject. People need potions for private ailments from time to time, and often do not wish their health issues flaunted,” Severus said.

At the end of the school year, the boy had admitted to distrusting Severus and his intentions for the entirety of the school year despite a lack of evidence. Clearly the child wasn’t the strongest of critical thinkers, but Severus would retire from incompetency the day he couldn’t manipulate a Gryffindor child. No doubt the boy would think it a crime to intrude on something such as one’s health.

“I can stay out of the way. It’ll take a while to fill Ron and Hermione in on everything that’s happened so far,” Harry said.

Severus nodded. Good. The boy would be out of the way by his own compliance.

“Be mindful that owl post can be intercepted. Do not mention Dobby, the Malfoys, or myself. Some matters are best discussed in person. And if the Malfoys are as large a problem as the elf implied, we do not want to give them forewarning,” Severus said.

Severus knew from last night’s interview with the elf that the Malfoys – or at least Lucius – were indeed a great problem, but no need to clue the boy in.

Harry thought on Severus’ words a moment, head cocked at an angle, before he nodded. It annoyed Severus to be questioned by a child, let alone _this_ child, but he said nothing since he wanted to encourage Harry’s thinking. So long as Harry wasn’t rude about it.

“Flootsy, see Mr. Potter to his room. I don’t want him seeing our guest if this is a delicate situation,” Severus said.

Harry and Flootsy nodded.

“Do not get used to her apparating you around the house,” Severus warned.

Harry nodded, face twisted in distaste. “I don’t like apparating, so no need to worry.”

Severus smirked as Harry took Flootsy’s hand and the two disappeared. Severus drained the last of his tea and stood, brushing a few crumbs off his robes.

Before going to see Albus, Severus tore open Bones’ letter and glanced through it. He didn’t want to enter a conversation with Albus without all possible knowledge at his disclosure. It paid to be forewarned before Albus could spin things his own way. The letter verified what Severus suspected – the DMLE had confirmed Albus was Potter’s previous magical guardian and Albus would be contacted through official channels shortly. Given when the letter had been sent to Severus, Albus may have already received his own notice from the DMLE.

Having read the letter, Severus closed his eyes to center and calm himself. He wouldn’t charge ahead like a Gryffindor.

Severus left the kitchen, striding through the halls and into the Receiving Room in a whirl of robes. He winced as he caught sight Albus’ magenta and lime robes, which clashed against the tasteful blues and grays of the Prince Receiving Room. The man’s fashion tastes had given rise to numerous headaches for Severus over the years.

Albus stood examining the titles on the single bookshelf in the room and ignoring the portrait of Dunstan. While it was common knowledge that receiving portraits were used to spy on guests while a living member of the family wasn’t present, polite guests still exchanged small talk with the portrait. Albus, however, held himself above common etiquette as though his magical prowess exempted him.

Dunstan threw an unimpressed glare at Albus as the old man turned towards Severus.

“Severus, my boy, I’m here on troubling news,” Albus said.

Albus wore his kind, grandfatherly personality today. That gave Severus pause. Whenever Albus needed to manipulate Severus, he mentioned Severus’ vow to Lily. It intrigued Severus that Albus hadn’t chosen that tact today. Had the old man sniffed out the change on the wind?

Severus waved a hand at the seats.

“Please sit and I’ll have my house-elf fetch tea,” Severus said.

It would have been more polite to escort Albus to another room, but Severus was just vindictive enough to ignore the good breeding he’d so desperately acquired when he’d attended Hogwarts. Severus’ hostility had only a thin veneer of hospitality to hide behind. If Severus weren’t a Slytherin, he’d have foregone the courtesy of offering Albus a seat and tea, but Severus was Slytherin through and through and wouldn’t tip his own hand that much. Still, Severus couldn’t stomach the idea of inviting Albus any deeper into Severus’ house.

Severus seated himself, but Albus didn’t. He stood over Severus – what a cheap trick, really – with the usual twinkle in his eyes extinguished, grandfatherly worry etched around the corners of his eyes.

“Severus, it has come to my attention that Harry isn’t home with his aunt and uncle,” Albus said.

Severus leaned back as he regarded Albus. Within moments, Flootsy appeared with a tray of tea. A plate held a sugary confection Severus didn’t recognize. He grimaced at it as Flootsy put the sugary debacle in front of Albus’ seat.

Severus summoned his cup of tea off the tray before Flootsy settled it in front of Albus’ chair. She glanced reproachfully at Albus for not taking his seat but left the tray on the coffee table at a nod from Severus. Flootsy bowed before apparating to some other quarter of the house.

“That has come to my attention as well,” Severus agreed.

Albus gave Severus a disappointed look.

“I’m told the boy was last seen with you, Severus,” Albus said. “I thought you understood the importance of the boy’s protection from those who wish him harm. I need to know where you left Harry so I can take him home to his relatives’ care. You haven’t forgotten your oath, have you?”

Severus fought the urge to slam his teacup onto the saucer and took that as a cue to raise his mental shields. He spoke once he had his temper in check.

“I have not betrayed my oath, Albus. When I checked on the boy, I found him abused by Petunia and her husband. I removed him from their _lack_ of care and what’s followed is the legal repercussions that arise when such things occur,” Severus said. “I vowed to protect the boy, Albus, and in this instance I had to protect him from his relatives. Do you have such little faith in me?”

Albus shook his head.

“Severus, my boy, you do not understand the protections Harry had at that house. There are blood wards, kept alive by Harry having a home with Lily’s sister and nephew. The boy needs to return to maintain the wards and be kept safe,” Albus said.

The sheer audacity astounded Severus. He’d always known Albus was sure of himself, to the point of arrogance, but usually the man had the annoying habit of being right. But now? Severus scoffed.

“Kept safe? Albus, are you deaf or have you truly gone mad? They abused the boy, Albus. There was nothing _safe_ about that. And blood wards? Is that all you had in place? They mean nothing if the boy doesn’t consider the place a home. And believe me, Petunia Evans ensured her nephew never saw that place as home. The blood wards were nonexistent when I visited,” Severus said.

Albus sighed.

“It is unfortunate. The boy is her family. I thought Petunia would outgrow her childish behavior to give young Harry the love that flows naturally between family members,” Albus said.

“Not all families have ‘love that flows naturally’. My own is proof,” Severus spat. “The secret is out, Albus, and the Ministry knows. They will not allow Potter to go back. I will not allow Potter to go back. Go home. There’s nothing further to discuss.”

Albus gave Severus another look of deep disappointment.

“Severus, I expect more of you,” Albus said. “You know I cannot leave the boy just anywhere. I must take him somewhere safe. We cannot allow the Ministry to endanger the boy.”

Severus raised his eyebrow.

“Have you no faith in me, Albus? Do you think I’d allow the boy to be thrown to the wolves?” Severus asked.

Severus bristled at Albus’ answering expression.

“You and the boy hold no love for each other,” Albus said. “You must trust my judgement, my boy. I have a plan. Do not let your hatred for the father permit harm to the son.”

This time, Severus did slam his cup.

“Your plan failed, Albus. You had a decade to do it your way, and all it got the boy was abuse behind shoddy protections. Aren’t you willing to go to any lengths for Potter? He’s one of your precious Gryffindors. You always protected Black. Does Potter mean less to you than Sirius Black? Are you less willing to move heaven and earth for the boy than that killer?” Severus spat.

The conversation had devolved, unraveling the tenuous comradery they’d built over the long years. They’d never had a great relationship – after all, how could Severus ever grow to love his jailer? And Albus could never completely forgive Severus his crimes when guilt was such an effective weapon to wield – but they’d at least achieved an equilibrium with each other. Now, Severus’ old resentments bubbled over. He’d obeyed Albus all these years, done everything asked of him to redeem himself. But by God, there were times Severus loathed Albus as deeply as Severus loathed himself. The old man held himself up as the paragon of justice, when year after year Severus stood by and witnessed the prejudice the Headmaster held and encouraged against Severus’ House and students.

Funny that Potter – the paradigm of House Gryffindor – would be Severus’ breaking point.

“The boy belongs with family, Severus.”

The words were said with such a profound sadness, the old man laying it on thick. Severus gritted his teeth.

“The boy belongs with _me_. Those people never earned the right to call themselves his family, and Potter never belonged with them. Afterall, I am the boy’s legal guardian, as dictated in his parents’ Will,” Severus said.

Were the circumstances any different, Severus would have enjoyed the opportunity to catch Albus by surprise. So few things truly surprised the old man that his expression always held more of a comical look to it than others. Severus couldn’t enjoy Albus’ expression currently, but he did feel savage satisfaction.

“You?”

Severus didn’t think Albus had meant to ask that, more a reaction than a question, but Severus wouldn’t pass the opportunity.

“Yes, _me_. Because Lily and _James Potter,_ a man who hated me until his dying day, chose me as the best option to watch over his son.” A severe exaggeration, but not one Severus would bring to Albus’ attention. “The Ministry knows I am his legal guardian, and no one has the authority to take him from me. I will not relinquish the boy to any party who’d cause the boy harm. That includes you, Albus.”

Albus held his hands up placatingly, the judge replaced by the grandfather.

“I mean no harm, my boy. I’m merely thinking of how much you detest young Harry. I know how being burdened with him must rankle you,” Albus said.

Severus raised his chin.

“I may not have expected to be named Harry’s guardian, but I will do the job justice,” Severus said.

Albus smiled, nodding his head.

“I do not doubt, my boy, that you will perform the job to the best of your abilities,” Albus said.

Severus bit his tongue against pointing out that he hadn’t been a boy for years, nor that Albus hadn’t said he believed Severus would do a good job of being Potter’s guardian. Any show of affection from Albus always came as tenderly as a cactus wrapping Severus in its arms.

“You always rise to a challenge. It is one of your most admirable traits. You have willingly shouldered so many burdens, Severus, and have born so many hardships. You spied on a most dangerous man at great personal risk. You dedicated your life towards preparing for his inevitable return. You’ve taught students for a decade, despite having no heart for it. Now, you’re being asked to take up yet another burden, caring for a boy you despise. You will sacrifice the last of your personal time to the boy. Let me spare you of this. Haven’t you sacrificed enough?” Albus asked.

Severus glared at Albus, nostrils flaring in suppressed fury.

“Each of those burdens was one that you placed on me, Albus. Each one, I took willingly. I have taken on Harry’s care willingly as well. If you are so concerned about my welfare, however, I’d be more than glad to ease your mind and find employment somewhere else. You will not, however, convince me to turn the boy over to you. I am his guardian. Not you. And do not think that I haven’t noticed that you are pushing for what amounts to kidnapping. I don’t know how many more times I will have to repeat myself, but _Potter will not return to Petunia’s house_ ,” Severus said.

Enough. No more. Severus had reached the point where he could tolerate this no more. Steeling himself for what he had to do, Severus stood and nodded at the fireplace.

“I must ask that you leave and not return. I know you were the boy’s previous magical guardian, and as such will soon be under investigation as to how the boy came to live there. I will not be able to allow you access to my home or my ward until this matter has been settled. Today was a courtesy, but now I must ask you to leave.”

Albus still seemed to be absorbing the fact that Severus had custody of Potter. Then Albus blinked and the befuddled expression slid off his face. Whatever emotions the man felt now stood behind a barrier of Occlumency shields.

Albus shook his head, projecting sadness and disappointment.

“I am afraid you are making a grave error, my boy,” Albus said.

Severus met Albus’ gaze.

“I assure you, I am not. The boy will never live under Petunia’s roof again,” Severus said.

“I know you do not like the lad, but if you care about your vow, you will send the boy back. We need the wards to hold,” Albus said.

Years of obeying Albus crawled across Severus’ skin like a kicked anthill. Albus’ self-righteous override of other people’s opinions and input – Severus’ opinions and input – bit too sharply.

Severus swallowed the gall of knowing his trust had been misplaced. A decade of sacrifice and ignoring Albus’ questionable decisions in running Hogwarts had been for naught. The Dark Lord might be Fiendfyre, raging and loud and terrifying, but after close observation, Severus knew Albus was equally destructive. Albus was Amortentia – his victims never knew anything was wrong.

“Potter will never live with those vile people again, and that is final. Now. I really must insist you leave, Albus. We will not be reaching an accord. Clearly,” Severus said.

Severus crossed over to the fireplace, taking down the pot of Floo powder. He turned and extended it to Albus. The old man looked from the pot to Severus, still disappointed. Albus moved across the room with an exaggeration of creaking limbs and pained sighs.

“There will be severe repercussions from this, Severus. I hope you understand that,” Albus said.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a threat?” Severus said.

Albus sighed.

“We will discuss this at a later time. I see you’re too upset at present to think rationally,” Albus said.

Severus gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything because Albus had reached out and taken some Floo powder. Severus watched as the man threw the powder in, calling for his office at Hogwarts. Severus didn’t move until the last flickering green flames disappeared.

“Flootsy.”

The house-elf appeared at Severus’ side.

“It didn’t go well?” she asked.

“Get me a vial to store a memory. I need to store the Headmaster’s visit,” Severus said.

Flootsy bobbed her head and disappeared.

While waiting for her return, Severus pulled his wand and began recalibrating the access on his fireplace. It required fickle magic, excluding one person from entering a Floo network access point. It would have been easier to simply remove Hogwarts’ access to Heelhare House, but Severus wanted to ensure Albus couldn’t pop over to another fireplace and then Floo into Heelhare House.

The fireplace glowed red briefly as the new ward activated. Severus tucked his wand away in its holster. He straightened to find Flootsy standing to the side, waiting for him to be ready to accept the vial she held out.

“Thank you,” Severus said, taking the vial from her.

He recalled the entirety of Albus’ visit, withdrawing the memory in a long, dangling string of silver. He bottled the memory and slipped it into his pocket.

“Is there being anything else Flootsy can do for Master Severus?” Flootsy asked.

Severus went over his conversation with Dumbledore for any sensitive information. The conversation tipped Severus’ hand regarding his stance on the Dark Lord and Potter, but then, that owl had flown when Severus had agreed to be Potter’s guardian and hadn’t promptly murdered the boy. There was nothing in the conversation to hide.

Severus turned to Duncan.

“Did anything of note happen before I arrived?” Severus asked.

The portrait shook his head.

“He ignored me and went straight to the shelves. There was nothing else before you came in.” Duncan sniffed at the slight of being ignored. “A person of his position was expected to have good breeding, back when I was alive.”

“The Headmaster believes it’s his position that exempts him from such niceties,” Severus explained.

The wrinkle of distaste on Duncan’s face showed what he thought of that.

Severus turned back to Flootsy and extended the vial to her.

“Take this to my solicitor. Let him know it contains Albus Dumbledore’s visit to my home this morning. I want him to make a copy and send Madam Bones the original,” Severus said.

Flootsy bobbed her head and apparated away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm still not satisfied with how the conversation between Severus and Albus went, but here it is. 
> 
> Also - thanks everyone for the kudos and comments. I know that I'm behind replying to everyone, but I have at least read everything. Life threw a curveball this past week (nothing bad, just time consuming) that made it so I only had enough time to reply to comments or work on the story. I'm not sure that I'll be able to catch up on replying this week either, but I will eventually, so sorry about the delay.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this week's chapter!
> 
> Lots of love ❤ - Ramblings


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